Let's Get Married
by madge3210
Summary: Post 'Partings'. RoryLogan London, Logan's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Let's Get Married

Logan sat in meetings, feigning interest in the monotony that pretended to be words drip from his father's lackey. His fingers tapping out an old Sonic Youth song Rory was obsessed with a few months ago, he snuck a covert glance at the face of his watch. The hands mocked him, almost moving backwards time passed so slowly. The numerals registered with him as the realization of what his girl would be doing at the exact moment his soul died a little bit more in a London boardroom. 2:47 pm, which for Rory meant her sixth cup of coffee cart coffee, excluding the half-pot she made every morning at their apartment. The annual report laid out on the wood in front of his eyes, with absent-minded doodling in the margins, slowly shifted into the marble countertops in their kitchen, where Rory would always put his coffee mug out for him, after stealing a few sips. His hands almost reached out to cup the mug that she bought for him on a whim, with Angelina Jolie's face plastered all over it, her idea of sneaking pop culture into his life. Alternatively, the coffee mug he purchased for her had Pushkin and Dostoevsky. For Logan, it was these tiny little details that made their relationship for him, how she loved that he bought a trivial cup for her, even though they both knew he could give her the world.

A vibration against his chest, which Logan almost mistook for his quickening pulse, snapped him out of his Rory reverie. He discreetly slid his thin cell phone out of his jacket pocket, and flipped it open underneath the table, almost as if he was a grammar school student again, afraid of the teacher. An envelope whizzed around his screen, alerting him to his new text message. He punched in his access code, 2-2-3, which spelled out 'Ace', and scrolled through the message.

_Angie's lonely and so am I. Don't let your soul get too sucked today. Fish and chips. Ace._

Somehow, she knew exactly what he was thinking about. She always did. Her 'fish and chips' was their own short-hand 'I love you', something Rory had devised to make him feel better about talking to her in the office filled with his father's sycophants, although he knew she also loved slipping into her atrocious British accent during their conversations.

He typed a response on the tiny keypad.

_Maybe it's time to add K-Fed to the collection. Dinner tonight? Fish and chips, my Ace, fish and chips._

As a result of living with her, he slowly began to understand the quick fire references and obscure comments she threw his way. He first though it was one of her tests, trying to suss out whether or not he was truly worthy of her. Logan Huntzberger did not fail tests, at least examinations posed by a pretty girl. However, he had come to enjoy their banter and the development of their own language, which separated them from the real world. His comment about dinner referenced the routine they had created the first night he was in London away from her. They switched off picking the restaurant, the movie and who called whom. When Logan walked into his flat that first night, he found meticulous notes on the various ethnic restaurants within a 10 mile radius of his home, a result of Rory cajoling his secretary into taste-testing every single one. She explained away this quirk, telling him it was not only useful, but a tradition to 'Lorelai' one's new dining options. When it was Rory's turn to pick, she usually stuck with Chinese and a trio of themed movies. Logan fell into the habit of ordering her favorite for himself, just so he felt a little bit closer to her as they both picked through their Szechwan chicken. However, their routine was frequently interrupted by Mitchum requiring Logan's presence at business dinners that usually turned into after-dinner drinks and entertainment. Logan truly only felt alone on Fridays, when Rory was at her grand-parents' and he was stuck watching BBC, which only made him miss Rory's 'four-time' rule for inane British comedies. One time, Rory left him on the phone and 'took' him to Friday night dinner, just because he missed hearing people speak without accents and fawn over his every move simply because of his last name.

The hardest thing about London for Logan, besides waking up alone every morning, had been settling into the office and the lifestyle of said position. From the minute he set foot in the building that first morning, he felt watched and slightly insecure. Here were people whose salaries depended on their degree of reverence and hero-worship of Mitchum, actually now Logan. He wasn't used to the responsibility of even setting the alarm clock, much less the livelihood of a paper. That first day made him realize why Rory couldn't tell him not to go to London; there were certain tutorials that were made available solely through atmosphere and environment, and Old Blighty was going to teach him how to grow up.

At the moment, Logan still felt much like a child mistakenly seated at the adults' table for Thanksgiving rather than the heir apparent to one of the most powerful media conglomerates in the world. People talked above him, at him, around him, but no one bothered to speak to him. His own co-workers were too shy to walk into his office to ask him for a minute, even his 'minutes' were prearranged by his secretary. His thoughts drifted back to the meeting concerning the paper's previous numbers; his head suddenly cocked with an idea. "This column, circulation, I'm not particularly fond of numbers with so few zeros. What's our online readership?" A muffled reply met with his ears as the men beside him shifted slightly in their plush seats. "All right, I propose a solution: I want a meeting with our layout and content editors, as well as our web design team. If print media is old-fashioned and out-of-touch with the digital age, then we'll modernize and capture an entirely new market. Excellent work, ladies and gentlemen, have a good day." Pleased with himself, Logan strode from the room, happy that he could feel like he made a tangible contribution.

Fiddling with his laptop in his office, Logan clicked off the screen-saver of him and Rory at her twenty-first birthday party. It was a candid photo, taken however by Emily's professional photographer, but to him it captured who 'they' were. Facing each other, lost deep in pools of sapphire and mocha, Rory had unconsciously held Logan's hand to her heart as if to tell him "This is yours. I trust you enough to take care of it". Occasionally, he felt pangs in his heart when he thought back to the times when he had broken that fragile thing she had entrusted him with, but deep down he knew that his own heart had shattered right along with hers. But it was because he ached that he could tell her he loved her and mean it, mean it with every single fiber in his body. Logan had long since figured out that his heart was mended with parts of Rory's, binding them together indelibly. His gaze shifted to a frame on his desk of their infamous jump, the leap that signified so much more than a stupid stunt for him. The minute she placed her smaller hand in his, he knew this was it.

A knock brought him back to the cool white walls of his office. "Yes?" he called to the heavy oak door. A man, not much older than himself, hesitantly crossed the threshold and stood in front of Logan's desk. "Sir, I apologize for interrupting you, I was, I was just…" the man trailed off, losing confidence with every word.

"Hold on", Logan said, moving to get up and circle around his desk to greet the first brave soul to enter his domain.

"Okay, much better", he said as he stood next to the slightly sweating man. "I'm Logan, by the way, and you are…", offering his hand to the stranger. The man shifted nervously, unsure of what to do exactly with his boss' proffered hand.

"Paul", he finally answered, "Paul Ganay, the web designer."

"Pleasure Paul, please have a seat." Logan gestured to the squashy chair as he sat down in the accompanying one.

"Well, Logan, sir, I've come to see you about the meeting you scheduled for tomorrow, about the web page? I'm terribly afraid that I won't be available at that time, sir." He gulped, a little worried about Logan's reaction.

"Is that all, Paul? Why didn't you just tell my secretary to reschedule at a better time for you?" Logan questioned amiably.

"Blimey mate, you don't tell the mighty Logan Huntzberger to reschedule!" At this, Logan laughed and was genuinely amused at Paul's utterly honest response.

"Okay, Paul, why will you have to reschedule tomorrow's meeting?"

"Well, you see, tomorrow is September 28th. I always feel a bit too manky to make it into work on September 28th."

"Interesting Paul, and what activities on September 27th make work impossible before noon?"

"Newman. He is, quite honestly, an act of God cloaked in a jumper." Paul shrugged his shoulders apologetically at the idea of Newman, his best mate.

"You have a Finn! Of course, of course. I completely understand. Don't even bother coming in tomorrow if you have to bail him out of jail". At Logan's statement, Paul was incredulous that his boss not only seemed to understand his predicament, but find it mildly entertaining.

"A Finn, Logan? You going to have a good fry with me and eat me with some chips?" Paul jested lightly.

"No, Finn's one of my best friends from home. He's absolutely insane and has caused many a day of inactivity fueled by lots of vodka", Logan offered, chuckling at Paul's humor.

"Has your mate ever tried to scale the gates at Buckingham Palace stark naked save for a Bulgarian flag he nicked from their cricket team at the pub?" Paul challenged.

"Please. I don't even need a complete sentence to top that. Yacht. Fiji. Finn. Indonesian coast guard. Titanic", Logan countered.

"Bloody hell, the poor lady, destined to an early watery grave by such inept midshipmen!" Logan laughed and was happy Paul followed his train of thought. Logan genuinely liked Paul, liked that he wasn't intimidated enough by Logan's last name to forget that he was only twenty-three and not geriatric like others in his position.

Paul scooted forward to Logan's desk to spin a picture around. It was a black and white still of Rory laughing, except the photographer had left her eyes colored, a deep and brilliant blue that outshone any gemstone Logan had ever seen. She didn't know he had it, and would have been resolutely embarrassed to know that Logan had a picture of only her. However, Logan happened to know the photog quite well, seeing that it was Finn who managed to coax Rory into posing for his portrait midterm. Logan could almost hear her laugh whenever he gazed into the portrait, hear the melodious tones and see how her eyes flashed, her nose slightly crinkled and her lips parted to form a smile.

Paul let out a low whistle and looked approvingly at Logan. "Now mate, tell me where you're hiding this lovely lady here in Londontown".

"Back at Yale, I'm afraid. She's a senior Journalism major and editor of the Yale Daily News", Logan grew a little sad at the mention of Rory's physical location, even though she was never far from his thoughts or heart.

"And does this fantastic-looking bird have a name? A phone number? An older sister, perhaps?" Paul's joking remarks made Logan feel like his friends were lounging around his office, discussing the fairer sex.

"Rory, her name is Rory. As for the number, I'm terribly sorry, but the only one I have for her is the one to our apartment back at Yale. She does, however, have a very attractive and young mother." Logan laughed again, relieved that someone in his office cared about more than securing his business card.

"Ah. Living with her? But no ball and chain, as you Americans say? Pity about the mother, I don't think my girl would be keen on sharing me, no matter how pretty the lady". Paul's response put Logan completely at ease, a nice change in pace to the stress of the office.

"No, Paul, no ball and chain yet, but those shackles wouldn't be too bad. Tell me about your bird, as you Brits say". Paul launched into an explanation about his girlfriend, Jen, but Logan's thoughts were somewhere else. He had just admitted to a stranger, although not a complete stranger, that he was definitely headed towards ultimate commitment with one girl. That thought used to terrify him, as Rory's retaliation had proven that point many months ago on a bench at Yale. But this was new Logan, capable of responsibility and mature actions. Mature actions like making the love of one's life a wife.

Logan was brought back by Paul clapping a hand on his shoulder: "Now, as the mighty Logan Huntzberger, I know this could never compare to your fancy nancy nights out, but you should stop by the pub, get a true taste of Newman and meet my lovely Jen".

"Paul, Paul, Paul, as long as Newman promises to keep his clothing on until I'm relatively drunk off excellent scotch, I would love to meet your gang at the pub. That is, if you don't mind me tagging along for Newman's celebration", Logan grinned a little in anticipation.

"Not if you don't mind providing bail money. 9 PM at Queen's, on Tenham place. See you, marra!" Paul swung out of his chair and saw himself out.

In the back of the Mercedes on the way to the flat, Logan excitedly called Rory.

"Hey babe, who gave up their lunch money and let you give them a swirly today just because of your daddy?"

"Really, that's adorable, Ace, you get that from Tony Danza?"

"Well, was I the one with the crush on Alyssa Milano? I think not, Limo Boy."

God, he missed this. He missed the natural, unforced feeling of their conversations. He missed somebody knowing his stupid stories and poking fun at him, rather than all the bowing and scraping he endured at the office.

"Well Ace, you'll never believe it. I met someone!" He excitedly told her.

"Oh". Her voice fell. Shoot, definitely wrong phrase there. "His name is Paul. Paul Ganay", Logan tried to counter.

Her voice instantly picked up again. "Aw, honey, did Mitchum destroy your dream of being a rich newspaperman and now you and Paul are moving to Wyoming to try your luck at illegal sheep herding?"

"I walked right into that one, didn't I? Okay, fair enough. Paul's the web designer for the paper, and the first person not absolutely terrified of me. He invited me out for a drink with his friends, and guess what, he's even got a Finn!"

She snorted. "Finn's made it across the Atlantic? Impressive. Tell me all about your date with Paul. Do you want to talk about what pair of shoes really say 'come and get it' or do you not put out on the first date?"

"Dirty! But I like you. So how was your day?" Logan picked up on Gilmore girl lexicon and used it liberally with Rory.

"Meh. Substandard coffee because Mark's been sick with the flu, which he claims I gave to him, AK almost punched Bill in the newsroom today, which would have been awesome if I had had some Red Vines, but was really only great since I had popcorn and I love you." She said this very simply, as if it was another fact from her day, that in between her coffee runs and proofreading, she loved him.

Logan's breath caught in his throat, it always did when she told him she loved him.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, Ace."

"Oh yeah, Huntz, how much?" She playfully challenged him, egging him on.

"I love you ten times the page numbers of your unabridged Oxford English dictionary, which need I remind you is a very very big book."

"And I love you a million times the amount of the speed limit on the Autobahn."

"You know, they did post signs limiting it now, so I mean, your love could really be equal to only the A section, whereas I love you the whole alphabet."

"If you were next to me, I would so punch you. I love you, forever and for always."

Her last statement, which should have triggered some flight response in his brain, instead calmed him, and gave him reassurance that she would always be there for him.

"That's catchy Ace, you been cheating on me with a Hallmark writer?"

"Ohh, you just bought yourself a Mary Poppins and Jean Claude Van Damme marathon! Forget it, van Damme is too damn good for you! You get Julie Andrews all the way!"

Logan playfully winced, knowing that she meant watching 'The Sound of Music' during their dinner, which meant forcing him to play Rolf to her Liesl during the 'Sixteen going on Seventeen' musical montage.

"Okay, I concede. As long as you keep your 'supercalifragiliyaddayadda' to one repeat."

"You drive a hard bargain, but your terms are accepted. But wait, don't we have to postpone our date for Paul?"

"Oh shoot, I forgot how late it is here. I better get home and pick out my sluttiest sweater so that Paul will like me."

"That's my girl. Don't forget the Bonne Bell, boys love the Dr. Pepper flavor!"

"Hey Ace? I love you. I love you forever and for, for always too."

There. He admitted it. He told her, in no uncertain terms, that this was it for him. Actually, he was more responding to her statement of it, but it felt right.

"Logan, I know. If I thought Paul had even a prayer with you, I wouldn't have told you. Now go get pretty! Fish and chips!"

"Fish and chips, Ace. I'll call you later."

Logan hung up the phone and sunk back into the headrest. He loved her. He loved her forever and for always, exactly like she said. With that, he knocked on the partition and asked the driver to head to the nearest jewelry store.

(Loud and raucous singing in the background)

"ACE! ACE!"

"Logan?" Rory questioned the inebriated voice shouting in her ear.

"Ace, I love you. I mean, I really do. I know you said it before me, but I really love you."

"Oh Logan. I take it Paul was a cheap date?"

"Ace, now you know I'm an expensive date, right?"

"Logan, call your driver, go home and drink some water, okay? I love you."

"I wish you were here Rory. I need you to be here."

Logan mumbled the last lines as Rory was hanging up her phone, sure that she had not heard the desperate albeit drunken pleas he made to her.

Logan stretched his arm out, a little confused to why Rory didn't shift at all when he moved. He felt towards her side of their bed, but only found the coffee table. He opened his eyes, something his entire body protested. He was staring at his couch cushions, a simple sofa that he generally felt nothing towards, other than the fact that it wasn't their sofa in their apartment. The night flooded back to him in random flashes and strings: the pub, with Paul, karaoke with Newman, babbling on and on about Rory, showing the picture in his wallet of her to every single person he met. He didn't really remember talking to her, he wasn't sure if their conversation was reality or merely a product of his recurring Rory dreams. He rolled off the couch, groping for his Blackberry, unsure of the time. He noticed he had several new e-mails, which didn't surprise him at all.

The first three were from his father, wanting to know how the status meeting had gone and offering unneeded advice about the ancient board of directors. The next one was from Paul, although Logan was fairly sure that was a remnant of yesterday. He opened an email from his secretary detailing his new schedule for the day, which curiously had almost nothing on it, save for a late lunch date with Paul and the layout editors.

He clicked on one from the Yale Daily News server, unsure as to why the newspaper would have his personal email address.

_Babe,_

_Look next to your head on the coffee table. Look familiar? Aspirin? Your favorite hang-over buddy besides Finn? I emailed your secretary this morning, well, night for me, and told her you had pulled a late night trying to find a new angle for one of your feature pieces. Marika, your housekeeper, the adorable woman who earns my praise for her delicious waffles, will be arriving around noon to force-feed you beef tacos. Go back to sleep. I love you._

An ocean couldn't stop her, could it? He shook his head slightly, amazed at what she was capable of arranging in four hours for him. He had no doubts about the power she wielded, he caved every single time those blue puppy dog eyes were brought out, and he had two years to get used to them. Somehow, she also knew that he usually slept on the couch, never daring to go near the bed. Logan wondered if she had the same routine, preferring to uncomfortably sleep on their sofa rather than be alone in their bed.

Moaning, he slapped a pillow over his face and turned over to sleep.

Logan stirred, his hands brushing the soft curls piled on his chest. His dreams became more vivid the longer he spent in London. His fingers nestled in against her forehead, tracing her hairline down to her jaw and trailing on her pillow top lips. He sighed, willing himself to wake up and face the reality of being alone again. However, as he went to shift, he felt a true weight on his chest impede his movements. There was Rory, lying on top of him, in their regular positions during one of their movie marathons. Logan gripped her shoulder, almost afraid to find out she was real or he had definitely bypassed the edge of reason and gone straight to hallucinations.

"Mhm, Logan, I'm real, you can stop freaking out about whether or not you're crazy. And why is your couch so uncomfortable? I demand to be carried to bed this instant. I have grown accustomed to our 400-count sheets and refuse to find a sofa a suitable substitute." She snuggled deeper into his chest, not even bothering to open her eyes.

"Ace? What are you doing here? It's the middle of the day, you have classes, I have work, you have classes back on your side of the Atlantic!"

"Oh, so now it's my side? Somebody's getting a bit territorial if they're claiming whole countries as theirs. Now do you really want to discuss this on your lumpy sofa?"

Logan sat up, scooping Rory up in his arms, heading towards the pristine bed. She felt lighter in his arms, he worried for a brief moment that she wasn't eating.

"Hey Ace? Have you lost some weight?" He tried to sound less like accusatory boyfriend and more like genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, Paris got a treadmill and convinced me to use it after she installed the doughnut holder". She stretched out on his sheets, instantly moving closer towards his side of the bed.

"You, on a treadmill? Is there photo documentation of such an event?" Logan gently teased.

"Oh wow, what's that? The next flight to America in twenty minutes?"

"Hush you!" Logan silenced her with a deep kiss. "So, Ace, you mind telling me what you're doing here, not that I mind a surprise visit".

"You called me Rory", she stated simply, as if her reasons were completely obvious.

"Is that the jet-lag talking? Your name is Rory", Logan insisted.

"Last night, when you drunk-dialed me, you told me you needed me and called me Rory. You only call me Rory when you're serious about something. Ergo, my presence on your chest this afternoon", she smiled, the satisfaction of being near him again evident in her face.

"But a transatlantic flight in like an hour's notice? Not even Paris could manage something like that."

"No, but your father can, and he did. I called Honor last night to see if she knew the airline that Huntzberger Media had an account with, and once she figured out what I was doing, she three-way attacked Mitchum with me".

"Whoa, was that a Mean Girls reference? What happened to your La Lohan protest of '06? Don't tell me you caved already!" Logan joked.

"She made a triumphant return from the Land of Nonexistent Nicole Richie, plus she's in a movie with Garrison Keillor. I worship him and NPR, so LiLo got major points."

"Evasive maneuver, now tell me how you really got Mitchum to cave."

"Okay", she gulped, and began in earnest, "I called your father. I laid it out on the line."

_Hello, Mr. Huntzberger, it's Rory, Logan's girlfriend._

_Miss Gilmore, how can I help you?_

_Okay, Mitchum, I'm just going to level with you. I need a favor._

_What, a job reference? Rory, please, I mentioned you in the Wall Street Journal, which by the way, you're welcome, so you're set for life now that you've got the Huntzberger golden stamp of approval._

_Is that what you think I am? Some simpering socialite looking for a handout, be it a job or a marriage, from your family? Mitchum, I don't want that. I don't care about the money, the houses, and the power. What I care about is your son, how much your twisted games with each other destroy him and how he is tearing himself apart to measure up to you._

_Oh really, so you called to discuss my son?_

_Yes, Mitchum, I called because I care about him, I care about you, I care about Honor, and I care about your entire family because Logan does, and it kills him to never be good enough in his own right._

_What are you talking about? Logan's brilliant. He's got the instincts, the charm, the drive, he's a Huntzberger, of course he's good enough._

_Mitchum, have you ever told him this? Sat down with him and had a conversation about how proud you are of him?_

_He knows it, Miss Gilmore, he's my son._

_No, he knows that you disapprove of his choices, you disapprove of me, and you don't care enough to really tell him how you feel._

_My question is, Rory, why do you care enough to tell me all this?_

_I care, Mitchum, because Logan's my life. Do you not understand that? I care, even though I sat at your dinner table and let your family tear me apart, let you destroy my dreams, and now I care enough to go directly to the man who controls all of that._

_I see. My father doesn't give you enough credit._

_And you don't give Logan enough._

_Touche, Rory. Well, you have my attention. What's this favor?_

_I need to get to London. Preferably as soon as possible._

_Why? Is there something wrong with Logan? Oh god, don't tell me it's another stupid stunt, are Colin and Finn still in the US?_

_Mitchum, don't worry, everything's fine, he just needs somebody to be there._

_You're telling me you're willing to fly 3000 miles just to "be there"?_

_Yes, Mitchum, that's what you do when you love someone._

_Meet me at the airfield in 25 minutes. I assume you had the foresight to pack?_

_Thank you, Mitchum._

"So then, I showed up, the pilot flew, he landed, quite well I must say, and here I am".

"Whoa, Ace, you glossed over a few minor details there. You yelled at my father. You yelled at Mitchum Huntzberger, the man who crushed you a year ago. You also got my father to agree to do you a favor, even after yelling at him. You got my father to give you his plane to fly to London alone to see me."

"I didn't fly alone! That's such conspicuous consumption!"

"Wait, are you telling me Mitchum flew over here with you?"

"Yes, he took all your meetings this morning."

"You survived a transatlantic flight with my father? How?"

"Well, your father actually keeps several copies of the Times onboard, so there wasn't the usual scuffle for the crossword like there is at breakfast. I talked, he listened. He talked, I listened."

"What on Earth could you discuss with my father? It's not like he's all that up to date on the Jennifer-Vince thing. Plus, you still have a soul, so that automatically puts you out of the running".

"My mom wouldn't be Lorelai if she let me leave the country without at least an Us Weekly firmly in my hand".

"Get out, you're telling me my father actually read Us Weekly? The man who reads The Economist like it's a King James Bible?"

"Actually, Logan, we're Episcopalian, we're not really that big on Scripture", Mitchum said as he strode in through the flat's front door.

"Dad!" Logan sat up in alarm. "Don't you have meetings? Something more important?"

"Logan, the meetings are taken care of. Actually, they ran themselves, to tell you the truth, which I'm happy to see that you jumped at the challenge. Now, what say you and I have a business lunch and let Rory alone for a little?"

"Oh, Mitchum, that would be great, I need to check my emails since I left Bill in charge at the newsroom", Rory exclaimed thankfully.

"Bill, the moron that started the pub putsch to Howell-Raines Paris?" Mitchum tried to put a story to the name.

"One and the same, but he's the most senior staffer and I get a kick out of entertaining his illusions of grandeur".

"How very…Judi Dench of you, Miss Small Town". At their inside joke, both Mitchum and Rory cracked a smile, rendering Logan slightly speechless. He must have misheard them. His father did not like his Ace, nor did his father laugh. There was good reason most of the housekeeping staff at the Huntzberger mansion learned 'cylon' as their first English word.

"Sorry to break up the party, Ace, Dad, but if you give me twenty minutes to clean up, I'll be happy to join you for lunch."

Once in the car with his father, Logan abruptly turned and faced the man that he alternately loathed and cowered from.

"Okay, pod-Mitchum, what are you doing here? And what's with the new attitude? Last time I checked, you thought it was fun to crush my girlfriend, not help her out", he said, attempting to conceal his true curiosity.

"I am here, son, because Rory reminded me of a few things. There's no 'new' attitude, Logan, this is just a side of my personality you were always too angry to see. And I stand by what I initially told Rory; she wasn't ready a year ago. Sometimes the truth hurts, and it's the actions taken after the pain that make the person. She became stronger, and you can't argue with me on this one".

"So you let my girlfriend take your plane and you decided just to catch a ride across the Atlantic to remind me of a few things? Sorry if I'm apprehensive in accepting this 'side' of you, or whatever your excuse is, but you've made it perfectly clear that our communication is effective via e-mails and phone calls, and if you also haven't noticed in our twenty-three year relationship, we don't do face-to-face rather well", Logan's buried anger bubbling towards the surface, anger that built up for the better part of his relationship with the man seated next to him.

"What do you want from me, Logan? Do you want me to just come out and say it? Fine, you need it spelled out. What do you think London is? Some little torture experiment to see how committed you are to Rory, or my sadism peeking through my business suit, waiting for you to screw up so that I can finally cut you off and save myself millions of dollars in legal fees? London is an opportunity for you to grow up, find yourself, and do it in a place where nobody knows you, not if you don't want them to. I'm trying to give you the one redeeming thing my father did for me: a chance to be from out under my thumb and not become someone you hate, namely me".

"Dad", Logan said softly, "I don't hate you. I'm terrified of you, true, and one of my biggest fears is becoming like you in certain senses, but I don't hate you. I hate our relationship, but I get it. And I understand London, I really do. I just…I hate being away from Rory, and from my friends, and from what's comfortable to me."

"What exactly about me is so scary? But your confession does provide some clarity into why you always shuddered when people told you how much alike we were".

"How much alike we are, Dad, present tense. You really want to know what scares me? That I will end up in a big house like ours, filled with tension and anger, and not have anybody to love me. Or that my marriage will collapse and my endless parade of secretaries will mean more to me than the woman I vowed to protect until death. The worst of it would be, however, that my children and I will have nothing to talk about besides disappointment and family obligation. But, God, Dad, if I could be one-tenth of the business guy you are, how you can walk into a chaotic room and have people calmed with just a look, or see profit margins skyrocket after a peaceful take-over and restructuring, I would love to be like you".

"Son, do you realize we've been more honest with each other in the last five minutes than we have been in our entire lives? In fact, I don't think I've ever spoken with anyone so candidly before, including your mother, and I've been married to her for close to twenty-seven years", Mitchum admitted, cracking a Huntzberger smirk.

"Yeah, Dad, scary thought, eh?" Logan chuckled right back.

"Logan, I realize we've made some leaps and bounds in our relationship, but please tell me you don't want one of those freakishly close parent-child things like Lorelai and Rory, right? Because I can do these chats occasionally, but I do not need a play-by-play of your life here", Mitchum questioned, honestly worried with Logan's response now that the gaps between them had been bridged.

"Jesus, Dad, they creep me out too. I mean, their conversations are hysterical to listen to, but, honestly, I don't care for you to know the inner workings of my mind, and I'm not terribly interested in hearing about your 'exploits' as well", Logan laughed, finding his father's comment amusing. Mitchum had come a long way, both literally and figuratively, and Logan was still wrapping his head around the fact that he and his father had just spoken to each other honestly and almost affectionately. He was puzzled as to how this complete one-eighty came about.

"Sooo, Dad, what exactly prompted this Huntzberger heart-to-heart?"

"Rory."

"You're gonna have to give me more than that here, I gathered she had something to do with it, I mean, I am well aware of the possible topics of discussion that girl can cover in a seven-hour timeframe".

"She told me about the fight with her mother. And no, she only blames me for a small part of it. Actually, I don't think she blames me at all, she just had some residual anger that I was the catalyst to it. Anyway, she spoke a lot about how something inside her felt empty, how there were so many things that she missed out on sharing with her mother. She expressed so much regret about those few months that it got me to thinking about how many years I missed out on with you and Honor. I'm sure there were lots of baseball games you looked for me in the stands, and that your boarding-school roulette game was a ploy for my attention. I was angry with my father too, for always telling me he was too busy to come see me compete, but God, he always had to time to tell me how this was my last chance before he cut me off completely and left everything to my sister. Of course I knew how much of an empty threat that was, but I mean, the man never told me I was more important than his company. The saddest part was that I knew the answer, and it wasn't exactly in my favor. I was the same playboy you were, Logan, when I was at Yale, because I was being shoved towards the same fate that you are. And so much of that behavior was driven by fear. I was so scared, and in some ways, that carried over into my marriage and our family. Yes, I at one point loved your mother, but I never let myself drop my guard enough to truly love her. And with you and Honor, I thought that if I never spent any time with you, I wouldn't screw you up too badly, but I saw you repeat my mistakes. You know what was the one moment that really terrified me? Remember that time when you got kicked out of Groton? We were in my office, and I had several files to look over before midnight. I heard myself tell you the exact same things my father told me, and I did it without even looking up from the documents. When you slammed that door at me, I knew exactly how you felt, since my father never deemed me important enough to stop being the CEO for a moment and just be my father. So, Bee, I'm sorry that I missed out on so much. I really thought I was trying to protect you from me, but I want you to know that I really regret all those moments we never had". When Mitchum used Logan's childhood nickname that no one outside of their relationship knew, the stony part of his heart reserved for his father softened. He realized how hard it was for his father, the great Mitchum Huntzberger, to admit to anything besides his success.

"Dad", his voice breaking, full of regret, sadness and guilt, "it took two of us to create the walls between us. And I'm sorry too, for forcing you into positions you didn't want to take, especially with my completely irresponsible behavior. I guess I just wanted you to feel how I feel, cornered and unable to have a say in my own life. Since we're confessing everything, I might as well tell you, I love writing. I love the newspaper business. If I was anyone else but your son, I would be fighting tooth and nail for good internships, and the Daily News editorship, and I would absolutely hate Rory for all the talent she has. But since I'm your son, nobody will give me an honest opinion because of our last name. My editors won't tell me what my pieces lack because they're too busy trying to kiss my ass so they'll have a job after graduation. If something I wrote was actually good enough to be picked up by one of our newspapers, nobody would think that it deserved to be in there. I drag my heels on the whole heir thing because it robs me of something I love, it cheapens my desire to write since I'll never be treated like anyone else but the future CEO. You want to know why I've written so much over the last year? Aside from the fact that I physically needed to put pen to paper, Rory had a lot to do with the frequent bylines. She isn't scared to attack my pieces with her red pen, and she gave me the most useless assignment ever as a test to see if I was truly ready".

"Would that be the ode to the cracked concrete outside of the library?"

"Ha, yeah, I guess you could put it that way. But it showed her that I was serious about the newspaper."

"What did she say about it when she first read it?"

"Oh, that I was really your son after all".

"What? Explain, please".

"Seriously, you underestimate that girl, Dad. When she assigned me that ridiculous piece, she showed me a bunch of articles you had written under a pen name. Aside from the similarity in style, she said, and I quote her, 'you exemplify a true love of the written word, a desire to express yourself on paper, a fearlessness to lay yourself on the page and finally rid yourself of the self-imposed barriers to your greatness".

"Rory said that? She's got it, all right, I'll give her that". Mitchum half-heartedly smiled as he remembered the scared little girl that always had his 3 PM decaf coffee ready and waiting.

"Man, Mitchum, you don't get it. She's always had it. She always knew I had it, too. She saw I needed a challenge and a whole lot of faith, and that's exactly what she gave me."

"Bee, did she ever tell you that she called me and practically ripped my head off to come see you in the hospital after Costa Rica?"

"She called you? I knew she was too nonchalant about your visit!"

"Yes, she called me. She screamed at me, issued a challenge, if you will, to get over my ego and come and see you. Then, when I got there, she just looked at me like she knew I would come, looked me straight in the eye and cocked her head to your room. She sure can work the Huntzberger men, all we need is a challenge and a whole lot of faith", Mitchum matched Logan's tone.

Logan paused to consider what Mitchum had just admitted to him. He would have never guessed that Rory would have called his father, no, yelled at his father and ordered him to see his son. He also wouldn't have ever thought that she knew how much he wanted his father to be there, but Logan was fairly sure he understood why she did it. That was one of the true beauties of his relationship with her. As much as she hated his family, she knew that they were important to Logan, and so they became important to her. He had to admire her selflessness: after the family shanghai, he didn't expect her to ever want to see any other Huntzbergers besides himself and Honor ever again. For her to reach out to the man who completely crushed her and sent her on a downward spiral told Logan a lot about how committed she was to him. For Rory to behave like that even though she was mad at him for the bridesmaid debacle made him feel slightly unworthy of the love of such a good person. For yet another time that day, Logan silently wondered what he had done to deserve her.

Logan and Mitchum stayed quiet for a while, Logan watching the drifting scenery pass them by. When he saw the city proper fading into long stretches of uninhabited road, he turned to his father, in puzzlement. "Dad, aren't we going into the office for a business lunch?"

"Bee, didn't Rory get you the Beatles' White Album before you left? If I remember correctly, she told me it was absolutely necessary to survive in 'Old Blighty', as she affectionately put it", Mitchum dodged his son's questions with one of his own.

"Yeah, the night of graduation, she threw me a London-themed going-away party and uploaded a bunch of British artists onto my ipod so that I would at least have music to fall back on as a conversation starter. But why aren't we going to the office? I have meetings scheduled that I shouldn't miss, and you of all people should understand this concept".

"The office will not collapse without you son, so you can deflate your ego a little. We're going to Liverpool. Rory forced me to listen to the Beatles on the flight after she told me that a dismal taste in music was apparently an inherited Huntzberger trait. So, now that I'm in London, I want to go see the birthplace of my new favorite group", Mitchum shrugged at his explanation.

Logan had to hold back his glee. "Oh man, she totally got to you! And I thought you would always be firmly anti-Rory because she was going to ruin my life! You're just as bad as Colin and Finn! It took Finn five minutes and a game of 'who knows more indie bands' to crack. Colin, however, held out for about a week until he walked in on our heated discussion on the Italian PM brouhaha. All it took for you to fall in love with my girlfriend was a CD! Unbelievable. You're weaker than I thought, Dad", Logan chuckled, secretly amused that his father was under his girlfriend's spell exactly like his 'dopey friends'.

"Fine, fine, I admit defeat, unlike you. She told me it took a break-up and her refusal to even acknowledge your presence for you to even tell her how much you love her!" Mitchum smiled in triumph over his son.

"No, let me start at the beginning of the saga known as Rory and Logan", at this, Mitchum rolled his eyes and pretended to gag. "Dad, you dork. I should have told you this the minute I started calling her my girlfriend, you would have been over the moon about her!"

"Please, how could yet another woman instantly falling for your insipid charm make me smile?"

"Ha! Rory, fall instantly like the bimbos I used to date? She hated me. We're talking several plots to potentially smother me in my sleep hatred. She thought I was spoiled, egotistical, lazy, a snob, haughty, and a whole other host of unattractive qualities. I still shake my head at how I managed to get her to like me," Logan admitted.

"So why Rory? Why the one girl that didn't want you?"

"Well, I was stupid enough to grab her hand at the LDB gathering and the jolt from it must have fricasseed my brains or something. She did, and still, scares the crap out of me. But I'm scared to not have her in my life, because I hated who I was before her. I'm terrified that the most beautiful, intelligent, strong, loving woman in the world will one day turn over and tell me she doesn't want me anymore and I won't be able to handle it". Logan grew quiet as he finally voiced his deepest fear.

"Bee, have you listened to anything I told you? Have you listened to anything Rory's told you? She's completely head over heels for you. You scare her as much as she scares you. The only difference is that her fear is for you, not herself. She's scared that you're going to walk away, like you've done in the past. Oh yes, she told me about Honor's wedding, and how she found out from Honor about the break-up", Mitchum's voice started to rise a little in measured anger at his son.

"Hey," Logan raised his hands in surrender, "I know I screwed up. I know I broke her heart. I was so scared that somebody else trusted me with theirs that I didn't know how to deal with it and I bolted. I tried to make her meaningless to me, hence the triumvirate of bad decisions known as the bridesmaids. But I failed. I've never meant that much to anyone before, nor had someone that I cared about like that, it's not like Honor and I grew up in a place where emotions and sharing were encouraged. But Rory, she's it for me. I don't really think I can even coherently explain why, but she's always been it for me. From the moment I saw her eyes flash, I was done". Logan sighed and looked away, caught in daydreams. Mitchum wisely chose to stay silent after Logan's confession, letting his son sift through his heart and mind without interruption.

Logan's thoughts brought him back to that fateful day outside of Branford, that exact second when his heart tugged and his mind ignored it. It dawned on him that it was truly love at first sight with Rory, but it took him two years for his brain to process something that his heart already knew. When he had locked eyes with her in that hallway, he could see those same eyes staring at him from the back of a church, veiled by the white tulle in front of them.

"Did you know that I saw myself marrying her the instant she even deigned to look in my direction?" Logan mumbled, partly to himself.

"Have you thought about that anymore since? I mean, if you wanted to marry her when she hated you, your feelings can't have changed much since you began a relationship with her, right?"

"Oh my god, Dad, I've thought about being with Rory for the rest of my life every day since then. Until the break-up, that idea was too much for me. I saw your marriage, the marriages of everybody else in our circle, and I didn't want that. Not with Rory. I knew that if I married her, it couldn't be another society marriage. After our fight at the pub when I screamed at her, not my proudest moment by the way, I didn't think I wanted something complicated. I thought I wanted the socialite bimbo who had no ambitions aside from a Vera Wang wedding dress and a huge diamond to show off at the club. I thought I wanted a simple arrangement that wouldn't drive me crazy, or make me worry, or aggravate me to the point of throwing my hands up and admitting defeat".

"So why go back to the complicated choice? After all, you've taken the easy way out your entire life", Mitchum gently prodded his son.

"I got bored. I missed her. I missed that gray area that was so comfortable to me. Actually, I missed that part of myself that she had somehow weaseled out of me. Before Rory, I had never had my heart broken. The worst part about our fight and time apart was the fact that I was the one who broke it, something that I wished I could have blamed on her", Logan's eyes teared a little, filled with honesty and genuine hurt.

"I see…" Mitchum trailed off, lost in similar thoughts to his son's.

Neither man spoke for a long time, soothed by the constant motion of the car and each other's even breathing. After a while, Mitchum noticed that Logan's head had fallen back against the seat rest, his eyes closed, and his expression weary. He fished his cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed the bank manager for their account in Hartford.

"Jerry, Mitchum Huntzberger. I'd like to transfer it after all. I know I said I was unsure, but go ahead and put in a call to the London branch. I'd like it accomplished by tomorrow at the latest, understand? Pleasure's all mine, Jerry".

Logan and Mitchum returned to the flat just as Rory was struggling with a massive bag of books. "Whoa, Ace, need some help?" Logan asked as he reached to grab the handles of the canvas bag as they were sliding from her grasp.

"Rory, why didn't you just ask them to deliver these to the flat?" Mitchum questioned as he smoothly removed the volumes tucked underneath her arm.

"It wasn't as heavy when I left the bookstore, I swear. Three blocks away, then it got heavy", she sheepishly admitted.

"Ace", Logan groaned, "I told you, call a car. I don't like you wandering around London, lugging a thousand pounds of literature by yourself!" he gently chastised.

"I have legs, they function properly, therefore, there's absolutely no need for me to waste your money and England's petrol supply to get around your neighborhood. Besides, I met your downstairs neighbors, the Maxwell-Hearsts. They want to have a drink with us at the pub tomorrow, but I told them that you would be in touch with them".

As they entered the apartment, Mitchum excused himself into Logan's study to check for a fax he was expecting.

Rory and Logan stayed in the living room, sorting the books that Rory had discovered for them. "No! You're ruining the system!" Rory playfully slapped Logan's hand away from the cover of one of them.

"Oh my god, fine. I just wanted to see why on Earth you had gotten a book about baseball. You don't do sports, it's a Gilmore girl rule!"

"That's for you", Rory gestured, beginning to explain her system. "This pile has my books in it. That pile with the baseball book on top is for books I thought you would like and what you had put on reserve at the store already. And these", motioning over to a toppling pile of various-sized texts, "are books that we both will like but will have to share."

Logan grinned, picking up a hidden stack of books on a chair. "And what are these?"

"Ummm, those are the books I knew you'd like too, but you're a slower reader than I am, so I wanted them first?" she tried to innocently explain.

Logan shook his head, though captivated by her antics. "So as punishment, you're going to let me read all of these first and seethe silently because it will take me forever to finish them?" he teased.

She threw her hands up in defeat, but her eyes sparkled. "If I say yes, will you tell me why Mrs. Maxwell-Hearst asked me where we honeymooned, dear husband of mine?"

Logan blushed a little, embarrassed to be caught in his lie. "Are you mad? She overheard a conversation I had with you a while back and assumed, incorrectly, I might add. I've just never bothered to correct her when she asks me how my wife is and when they'll have the pleasure of taking us out to dinner and the opera." He silently prayed that being called his wife didn't cause her to freak out, or get mad, since he had become used to the warm wishes the downstairs couple always asked him to pass onto his wife.

"Not if you promise to actually take me to Marbella so I don't look like a fool when she grills me for details".

"Marbella, Ace, that's so touristy. What about our private island in the Indian Ocean?"

"Logan, you can't be serious, you own an island?"

"No, but if you wanted one, it's yours."

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "I don't need an island, you weirdo. Seriously, Limo Boy, quit throwing your money around to impress me, I'm definitely going home with you tonight." She laughed.

Logan pulled her closer, desperate to be as near to her as possible. She automatically snuggled into his chest, her brown curls tickling his neck.

"I won't be mad if you won't be mad that I signed the credit card receipt for the books as Rory Huntzberger", she muttered into Logan's body.

"No Gilmore-Huntzberger? What happened to all your feminism crap? You have Betty Freidan and Gloria Steinem action figures, for heaven's sake!"

"No, and don't think for a second that me taking your last name means I'd give up my membership in NOW! Gilmore-Huntzberger is too long for government forms, so unless I suddenly feel a desire to receive mail addressed to Gilmore-Huntzbe, I'm not hyphenating."

Logan merely nodded at her rationalization, but it became apparent to him that she had thought about how Rory Huntzberger would sound, and she had become comfortable signing for things as such. He hoped that she wasn't scared by him referring to her as his wife, which, truth be told, he did so quite often. Anytime he ran into one of the Maxwell-Hearsts or some of his other neighbors, he proudly talked about how his Rory had accomplished so much. For a second time that day, realization washed over him. He already considered her his wife, and conversely, she admitted she did as well. He wasn't put off by this, secretly; he loved how 'Lorelai Huntzberger' rolled effortlessly off his tongue.

With their light-hearted discussion of such a serious topic, Logan felt himself grow bolder and bolder, seeing just how long Rory would take to crack.

"That's a good thing about your anti-hyphenation stance, then when our monogrammed bath towels are dirty, you won't know which one is yours!"

"Seriously, you are so sophomoric sometimes. Plus, mine's going to be pink, and don't think I won't figure out a way to get evidence if you ever dare to use it, mister. And don't think I'm above letting Finn know that my husband just looooves his fluffy pink towels."

"You wouldn't, oh my god, you would! You would sell out your own husband and his secret love of femininely appointed linens. You, Ace, come from a dark place, a very dark place indeed. You make me worry about how many times the kids are going to side with your evil instead of my good!"

"Please", she scoffed, "as if any of our children will mistake you for an angel. But..", Logan detected a shift in her voice away from their banter and towards a more serious tone, "have you actually thought about that? I mean, our kids?"

At this, Logan grew nervous. Was she trying to let him know that she was out? That she couldn't see herself with their kids? "Well, yeah." His voice came out less than steady, but at least it answered her in the affirmative.

"Really?" At his admission, her worry lines that had steadily grown deeper with every moment of silence before his answer dissipated and a huge grin broke out on her face. "Me too", she said in a small voice.

Logan couldn't begin to describe the feelings that washed over him when she told him this. Marriage was one thing, but her desire for a family with him of all people as well? The realization that he would get to have the whole package with her excited him to no end, and it made him more resolute to find the perfect way to make their pretend life a reality.

Logan woke up as the sunlight peeked through the wooden shades drawn over the windows in his bedroom, just like the ones in America. His gaze traveled downward where it was met by a pair of oceanic eyes who were, at the moment, blatantly staring back at him.

"Good morning, Ace, you checking me out?" Logan playfully joked with her as he reached up to smooth her pillow-rumpled hair.

"MM-hmm! I forgot my hus-boyfriend was so cute." Her fingers, which were resting on his chest, quickly slid down underneath the covers that they shared. Logan couldn't help but wonder if her movement was motivated by lust or her attempt to distract him from her paraprax.

"Ace", Logan said gently, causing her to look him straight in the eyes, "You, know, I'm not freaked out by that, you calling me your husband. I've called you my wife ever since I got to London. It scares me sometimes, but a good scary."

"It scares me too, but I get scared thinking about the future with you not in it. Confession? I kind of like it when people refer to me as Mrs. Huntzberger, since then I get to dream about all the years we'll have together and everything we'll get to share." She laid her head back down and traced tiny hearts into Logan's chest.

"Ace, I like it when people call you that, too. I always think about how it makes you officially mine, that it's an outside recognition of you being a part of me."

"Okay, so I want this to be said out loud, no more silent agreements between us, we learned our lesson from the Seymour Hersh disaster."

"Ahh, Ace, I thought that I made that up to you already. Are you going to keep referencing that forever?"

"No, I promise eventually I'll come up with a new example. But seriously, Logan…"

"Okay. Rory, I love you. I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?"

"Of course I do, Logan, but do not for a second think that this thing we're doing right here is a proposal."

"Oh God, no! Lorelai would crucify me if you told her this story. No, Ace, this isn't my proposal. When I do propose, it's gonna be good, otherwise I doubt your mother would let me marry you."

Logan felt like an enormous weight had been removed from him, all doubts in his head about their relationship were erased. Rory had told him she wanted to be his wife, they had discussed it, and now it was going to happen.

"Okay, but can it not include a blindfold? I have a serious aversion to those when used in conjunction with your surprises!"

"Come on, you love my surprises!

"Correction, you love your surprises, and I love that you love your surprises, so my love of your surprises is only because of the transitive property of our relationship."

"I'm sorry, did you just use a mathematical equation to describe our relationship? That's a new low even for you, Bookworm."

"Hey! You totally just rescinded your claim to read those books first!"

"Come here, you're my bookworm, which makes it okay." They laid together, Logan's hands woven into Rory's dark hair, her fingers gently counting the freckles that marched along his arm. Logan felt Rory's breathing steady and match his own, their hearts moving in unison.

"Hey Ace", he ventured cautiously, breaking the comfortable silence, "why do you always sleep on my chest? Not that I'm complaining or anything, I like you there just fine, but it must be so uncomfortable."

"If I tell you the truth, do you promise not to laugh at me?"

"I would never laugh at you!"

"Two words: Rory curtain."

"Okay, not fair, everybody laughed at that. But come on, tell me."

"Fine. I like listening to your heart beat. It always reminds me how safe I am with you, and how much of you is inside me, especially when our hearts beat together. The first night you left, I couldn't sleep because I didn't have your heart beat to listen to. So I finally ended up shoving one of your watches underneath my pillow just so I could listen to a little bit of your rhythm. But now that you're here, I get to listen to the real thing."

Her admission rocked Logan to his core. He knew that their relationship was based upon moments and little things, but for Rory to say that just the beat of his heart made her love him, it reaffirmed everything he had ever loved about her.

"And I like how your nose crinkles up when you get confused. How your eyes change color depending on your mood. How I can literally see your first coffee work its way through your system…" After each declaration, Logan leaned down and kissed her, happy to lose his lips in hers.

"Mmm, speaking of that delicious elixir of life, how about it?" She gazed up at him, her Bambi-eyes reaching full force.

"Fine! You know I'm powerless to resist you when you do that!"

"Oh yeah?" she smirked, "How about when I do this?" She reached up and captured his lips, pulling Logan into a deep kiss that spoke to his soul of promises, love, passion and desire.

On his way to the lobby in the elevator the next morning, Logan bumped into Mrs. Maxwell-Hearst, who excitedly cornered him to discuss Rory.

"Logan darling, I had the great pleasure of running into your wife the other day! What a charming girl!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Maxwell-Hearst, I'll be sure to pass on the compliment."

"Well, charming boy, the mister and I would be overjoyed if you and Rory could join us for supper tonight, and perhaps a show?"

"That sounds perfect, ma'am. I'll call Rory and let her know she needs to go shopping."

"Oh, please let me! Mr. Maxwell-Hearst is at the office and I'm afraid I get terribly lonely during the day."

Logan paused, considering whether or not letting his society matriarch of a neighbor near Rory was a good idea. However, he knew that the possibility of saying no did not exist for him. "Of course, she would be happy to have your company."

Logan found a break towards the end of his meeting with Paul to call Rory. Hearing the ringing of the line, he sat down and mentally prepared himself for verbal lashing he was sure to receive.

"Hello darling!"

"Darling?" Logan questioned, amused to hear genuine happiness in her voice. "So you're not mad that I unintentionally stuck you with my nosy neighbor for an entire day?"

"Oh sweetie, I'm sure you'll make it up to me somehow!" Sarcasm dripped from her words, causing Logan to fear leaving the relative safety of his office for his extremely disgruntled Ace at his flat.

"Seriously, you name it, you got it. I'll buy you a chocolate factory if you want…"

"Well, if you promise me a room of squirrels, I'll say thank you for the absolutely exquisite Chanel gown you bought me today" she playfully interjected.

"Did you steal my black card again, Ace? You're as bad as Finn!"

"No, I'm planning on returning it sometime soon, so don't you even dare compare your wife to your best friend. Besides, I got you something too."

"So what have the Maxwell-Hearsts cajoled us into attending tonight?"

"Dinner and the opera. They have a box at the Royal London Theatre and 'La Traviata' is there, and you know that's my favorite Verdi, honey!"

Logan could tell she threw in the 'honey' sentiment as a last resort because her Bambi eyes could not be seen over the phone, but he knew her well enough to know that her mystical and persuasive eyes were out in full force.

"What time are the festivities starting?"

"7 at the Ivy, apparently Madonna cancelled and Geraldine is a bit put off that she would have the 'nerve' to need to reschedule."

"Wait, my neighbors know Madonna?"

"Yes, apparently my great-grandmother introduced them after meeting Madge through Korn."

Logan had to chuckle at the unwavering voice of his obviously untruthful girlfriend.

"Come on, Ace, enough teasing!"

"Who said I was teasing? My great-grandmother really did know Korn, they stayed at her house in Hartford."

"Lord, you are serious, aren't you? Knowing Lorelai Gilmore keeps surprising me. Anyway, you said 7? I'll have to meet you at the restaurant, would you mind calling my driver and asking him to drop off the Armani tux at the office? And can you relay the details to the Maxwell-Hearsts? I've got to run, babes, fish and chips!"

Ending the call with Rory, Logan scrolled through his address book to find Honor's number so that he could request her help with a small surprise for Rory tonight.

"Brother dearest, how goes it in London? Not too concerned about time zones, are we?"

"Oh god, Honor, I completely forgot! I promise, a tiny favor and Rory and I will babysit our nephew as soon as you want!"

"WHAT? How did you know? I haven't even told _them_ yet!"

"You know Ace, she was so excited for you, she came home, stole my credit card and rushed off to buy you a million baby things, which you should probably think about returning since she is the daughter of Lorelai Gilmore. So congratulations, Honor, I'm so happy for you, and I'm excited to be an uncle."

"I love your girlfriend, Logan. And yes, I am so excited and do not think for one minute that you will get out of babysitting your niece just because your girlfriend is good with kids!"

"Rory will be his aunt, so technically, I won't be pawning off your kid to just anyone…" Logan paused to let his statement sink in with Honor, expecting another ear-splitting scream to puncture their call.

"Well, of course Rory will be the godmother, like I'd trust any of my boozy friends with the responsibility of a child, wait, Logan, did you propose?" He could sense the change in her tone as her realization set in, along with a measure of shock.

"No, but I'm planning it. I even told Dad, which weirds me out, but a lot's happened between us in the past few days, next time I'm home, we'll have to sit and have an us vs. them discussion so I can fill you in on it."

"Oh, baby brother! You're growing up! God, I'm like six weeks along and already the pregnancy hormones are kicking in! I am so happy for you! Actually, I'm so happy for me! Now I'll finally have someone else in our family I can actually stand! You do realize this changes family dinner in our favor, right? We're finally a majority! The four of us can overrule them now, majority rules!"

"Ha! Never in that house. But I think we might have a shot now that Dad's on our side. Anyway, do you have Karl's number?"

Logan strode into the Ivy, pausing only slightly at the maitre d' stand to give his name and ask where his party was seated. After being directed, Logan followed a wizened waiter towards the back of the room, oblivious to the din of the diners around him. He smiled as the Maxwell-Hearsts and Rory came into view, his beautiful girlfriend sandwiched in between the distinguished older couple, who had their chairs angled conspiratorially towards her. She cocked her head to one side as Mr. Maxwell-Hearst whispered something in her ear, her eyes brilliantly reflecting the soft candles in the table's centerpiece. "Darling, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell-Hearst, please forgive me for my lateness! The front-page news never reports itself!" Logan announced to the happy trio.

Looking up, Logan's chest tightened a little as he felt the full magnitude of Rory's gaze. She was, for him, the definition of breath-taking. He drank her in, her luminous and silky hair twisted effortlessly, exposing her delicate face, her graceful eyelashes framing the soul-baring eyes, the luscious, creamy skin that was cloaked in an ethereal glow. Lucky, he thought, he was so lucky to have this perfect creature to call his own, soon to be forever.

"Please, my boy", Mr. Maxwell-Hearst gently chided Logan, "call us Robert and Geraldine, and do sit down! We were just enthralling your Lorelai with tales of our own Lorelai."

Logan moved around to shake Robert's proffered hand, and bent down to kiss Geraldine politely. He reached out and grazed Rory's bare shoulder, his fingers positively itching to touch her.

"Hello Ace." He murmured into her ear as he brushed his lips softly against her cheek.

"Hi babe, I missed you." She breathily replied, her eyes betraying that his gentle kiss made her wish for something entirely inappropriate in polite society. He walked to the empty chair, noticing that her dress wasn't indeed black but a midnight blue, his favorite color. He knew she must have chosen it specifically for him and was touched by her small gesture.

"Now Logan, it would only be polite to catch you up on how delightful your wife is, although I must say, she has become even more beautiful since Lorelai sent out her debutante picture," Geraldine smiled warmly at him.

"You were a debutante? And here I thought all this time I had married anyone but a society wife!" He smirked, knowing she wouldn't contradict him in the presence of the Maxwell-Hearsts.

"Oh Lorelai, your great-grandmother was incredibly proud of you, that was the first thing she always said to me anytime I saw her. Always proclaiming that you would one day make it very difficult for a man to leave your side." Geraldine smiled, looking between Rory and Logan.

"Well, Lorelai Gilmore was always an astute woman, wasn't she. By the way, Ace, I picked your ring up from Cartier on my way over here." He smirked as she looked momentarily surprised when he slid a small ring box across the table, motioning to her with his left hand so that she was sure to catch a glimpse of the simple platinum ring he had slid onto his own finger.

"Oh thank you Logan, I knew it felt like I was missing something all day." She smiled as she opened the box and slid the ring on with a casual air, although Logan could tell she was excited by the gesture.

"Lorelai, you have one thoughtful husband," Geraldine said as she grabbed Rory's hand to inspect the ring, nodding her approval.

"Oh, I know, Geraldine, I couldn't have asked for more." She shot Logan a smile that he knew well; a smile that indicated to him her love for him and any and everything about him.

While Geraldine and Robert interrogated Rory about the wedding, Logan sat back, entranced at the beauty that sat before him. However, he stayed abreast of their conversation, intelligent enough to realize that she was describing her idea of their future nuptials.

"It was a perfect day in April, one of those days that one always associates with the best things in life. Everything was beautiful, down to the cufflinks that Logan was convinced he lost. Remember honey, that onyx pair your sister bought you, which you tore our apartment apart looking for?"

He knew what pair she was talking about, giddy that her idea of their wedding day was so detailed, but somehow he knew it would be. "Of course, you almost came home from the church to help me look for them, much to the chagrin of your grandmother. But I just remember when you looked at me and promised me all those things" he said, looking deeply at Rory, conveying everything unspoken about their relationship. She didn't respond, caught up in his eyes. Peripherally, he spied the Maxwell-Hearsts exchange an understanding look and slightly nod their heads. A few moments later, he saw Robert look at Geraldine, who drew the couple out of their trance with another question. "Have you thought about children yet?"

"Well, I know Logan is dying for a boy, and I definitely need someone to play dress up with, so we're hoping for at least one of each." He smiled, the understanding finally dawning on him that she had truly considered all aspects of their future.

"Any names picked out?" Robert questioned.

Rory began: "Elias for a boy, after Logan's grandfather," Logan cut in, "With either Richard or Christopher as a middle name, after Rory's father." She smiled at his kind thought.

"And if it's a girl?" Geraldine prompted.

"Well, I have to continue the Lorelai tradition, but I want to have Adelaide as her middle name, for Logan's favorite grandmother."

"And so I don't confuse my favorite girls, we're planning on calling her Ellie." Logan interjected again, verbalizing the picture in his head of Rory and their daughter, excited to see him when he came home from work.

"My, don't you two have a wonderful life together. Reminds me of the first time Geraldine refused my proposal!" With that, Robert regaled the group with stories of his courtship of his wife, a theme which lasted until the two well-acquainted couples reached the lobby of their shared building.

"Lorelai, would you see Geraldine in? I have a tenant issue I simply must discuss with Logan," Robert said, indicating the waiting elevator.

"Of course, Robert, this evening was amazing, thank you so much. Logan and I will have to concoct a plan of our own to top you!" Rory kissed the older man's cheek before she pecked Logan on the mouth and walked away with Geraldine. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Robert grabbed Logan's shoulder and proclaimed "You are head over heels in love with that girl, and I would like to congratulate you on managing to commit to the best thing in your life."

"What do you mean?" Logan was slightly taken aback, not only at the man's bluntness, but at his awareness of the truth.

"Oh, don't be a fool, Logan. I was the same way, you know. Absolutely terrified of Geraldine, simply because I knew she was far too good for me, and curious to see when she would realize that fact. Thankfully, she's crazy and hasn't let me go yet. But you, you are in the presence of true, everlasting love, you've found your soul mate."

"How do you know?" Logan needed to be reassured by this successful gentleman who also married the love of his life.

"You mean you didn't notice how neither of you took your eyes off each other? How you always made sure you were touching her, a hand around her waist or across her shoulders, how she would look at you before her favorite parts of the opera, just to see how you would react? Plenty of our kind may equate success with mansions, money and mistresses, but I've always believed my greatest venture in life was asking Geraldine to share it with me." Logan let out a sigh of relief. He was so lost in thought about what Robert had told him, he barely noticed getting out of the elevator and entering his apartment.

Logan woke up to an empty bed the next morning, a bit alarmed when he realized his arms were clasped around a pillow instead of Rory's body. He shifted his arm over to her side, trying to see if the sheets retained any of her warmth. The coldness that met his fingertips prompted him to call out with a hint of desperation, "Ace?"

"In the kitchen, I wanted to surprise you with something! I'll be right in!"

Satisfied with her answer, he propped himself up against the headboard and grabbed his phone off the nightstand to check his messages. He didn't notice when a tray was unceremoniously dropped into his lap, piled high with bagels, pastries and several cups of coffee.

"Aw, honey, what's this?" he asked with amusement.

"Oh darling, I made us breakfast in bed!" Her eyes sparkled as she matched his sarcasm.

"Made? Made implies that you at one point did more than ask the doorman to pick this up from the café down the block," he said, noting the familiar logo on the coffee mugs.

"You know, with that attitude, I'm not going to show you the second part of your surprise." Her fingers moved to tighten the sash of the robe she had entered wearing. Logan could see she was clearly hiding something under the robe, and his curiosity caused him to abruptly seize the belt and tug hard. His eyes widened as the robe fell away from her, exposing a beautiful lingerie set that she had obviously picked out just for him. It was delicate, but sublimely sexy, and seemed to make all of his other experiences with women in lingerie pale in comparison. He couldn't help himself as he took her in, the glorious sight of her perfect body shielded by only a bit of lace.

"Do you like it?" she asked nervously. "I was so embarrassed to buy it, but the woman at the store nearly shoved it into my hands after I told her what I wanted your reaction to be."

Logan was still speechless that she had put so much thought into surprising him. He was also shocked that she had crept out of her shell to be a little bolder with him.

"God, Ror, I love it. You can have my black card anytime as long as you promise to buy something like this every time."

"Oh really? I don't get my own?" She swatted playfully at his attempts to pull her down into the bed.

"How about sharing mine? If I got you your own, I wouldn't get the pleasure of unwrapping my presents after your shopping sprees."

"Actually, I kind of wanted this to be a regular thank you for you every time you amaze me with your kindness and generosity. You didn't need to get me a ring; I already explained to Geraldine that I had it sent in for resizing."

"I know I didn't, I wanted to. And I notice you still haven't taken it off, have you? I don't want you to, either." He surprised himself with his honesty, but he figured that after their intimate conversations about everything, there was nothing to be held back.

"You know I don't need a giant diamond or some elaborate proposal, Logan. I just need you. And although I'd love to see the look on my mother's face if I showed up with an ice rink on my finger, I love this simple ring because you gave it to me. I know we're not officially married or even engaged, but I love looking down at my hand and seeing this ring that you put there. That's all I need Logan, only you."

He was touched, truly touched that she admitted this to him, although he knew her innate goodness wouldn't have directed her any other way. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

They lay there together, Rory lazily stroking his chest while his head rested on top of hers. "Hey", he said softly. "Rory, I know you don't need a big proposal or something over the top, but you deserve it. I want it to be the best day of your life, the day when I ask you to be my wife, and you know I wouldn't give you anything less."

"Logan", she interrupted, "I don't want anything elaborate, I just want you. Although, my grandmother might kill you if you don't live up to your reputation."

"Okay, how about I surprise you, but I promise not to make it a big deal?"

"Deal."

Logan found himself drifting over to an unfamiliar place after his long day at work, a set of boutiques lined with aristocratic women and their tiny dogs. He knew Rory wouldn't ever want one of those 'pocket pooches', but a big dog that he could take on his runs with him, one that he could feel safe about leaving her home alone with. Maybe a retriever or lab, but a gorgeous black dog that they could take pictures with for their Christmas card until they were ready to have children. A few years ago, Logan would have down and out punched someone who would have suggested that he would think about a dog as protection for his girlfriend, let alone the possibility of him sending out a card at the holidays. But he was excited for when it became a reality, already thinking about the day in the park when she would get them matching sweaters and the puppy a new bow, so they could send out messages to everyone about how happy their little family was. He was plain excited to have a real family with her, a real home to return to after work, a place of love and tenderness that he never knew he missed until now. His thoughts were interrupted when he found the storefront he was looking for, a monochromatic black window with a small interlocking logo that he would have missed had he not be there before. His phone jingled in his pocket as he was escorted into the boutique by the doorman.

"Honor! How's my little nephew and his mommy?"

"Good lord, you've gone soft. I'm good, the baby's good, Josh is a nervous wreck, I still haven't told them yet, but I'm thinking about it, how about you?"

"I'm tired, but the paper's going really well, some big numbers that Dad actually might be proud of, and I'm actually going to meet Karl right now."

"OOOO! I wish my husband would design a dress for me! Now, I was planning on telling Mom tomorrow, but I really could use a distraction, so I'm going to ask Rory to come with me."

"Do you really think that's such a good idea? I mean, Mom's stress smoking has reached full-pack status whenever Rory is around, and you have an unborn child to think about."

"Have you talked to Dad recently?"

"Yes, do you really think the neurotic control freak we call our father would not be in constant contact with me?"

"No, I mean like actually talked to him. He told mom about your little chat about Rory's Huntzberger status and I think she might have actually accepted that fact."

"Really? Huh." He wasn't too sure how he felt about his parents accepting the fact that he was going to marry Rory. On one hand, he wished that they could be happy for them, like normal parents were when they found out similar news, but he knew that their quiet resignation was at least a better reaction than a forced break-up. On the other hand, he wondered why they were going so quietly. He thought back to the first disastrous dinner he had brought Rory to, how angry his family's reaction to her had been. His best guess was that they finally saw how good she was, a good person and a good influence on him. With her, Logan had actually attended more social events, participated more in school and the paper, and began to somewhat embrace the heir responsibilities.

"Honor, I have to run, but I promise to make Karl make his assistants email you his sketches of the dress so that you can tell me your input, okay? Tell Josh hello and kiss my nephew for me!"

"Oh baby brother. I miss you!"

Logan hung up with Honor and was immediately approached by an assistant.

"Qu'est-ce que voudriez-vous, monsieur?"

"Je suis ici pour une rendez-vous avec M. Lagerfield. Je voudrais voir une dessine pour ma fille."

"Tout suite, monsieur." The assistant rushed off towards the back, leaving Logan to contemplate why a store in London would conduct its business solely in French.

"Logan! Quelle surprise!" A booming voice pulled him back into the stark white interior of the chic boutique.

"Karl, wonderful to see you again! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with my project. Honor and my mother absolutely rave about your creations for them!"

"Ah, mon petit chou, I live to dress the fine Huntzberger women! But this dress you desire, ce n'est pas pour une fille Huntzberger, oui?"

"It's for a soon-to-be Huntzberger, actually. I'm hoping you would honor me with a dress for Rory, my girlfriend, when I ask her to marry me."

"Ah, yes love. Above all things love. Flimsy and ethereal, but yet so strong. Of course, Monsieur Logan, I would be honored to create a fitting tribute to your love. Allons-y! We have much work to be done if this dress will pay homage to l'amour!"

Logan paced around his office, clutching the phone to his side. Thirteen times he had started to dial the number, but every single time he was even close to the last few digits, he started shaking and couldn't finish. He wasn't sure as to why he was utterly terrified of this conversation; after all, he had tackled much bigger opponents. More formidable, he wasn't sure of, but definitely much bigger. He knew that since he and Rory had fixed their mistakes and really committed to each other, Lorelai had been content, if not a little bit happy, for him. She somewhat accepted him, tolerated him at least, but he wasn't sure how she would react to anything he had to ask her. He chickened out. Calling out to his secretary, he asked her to connect his line to the Dragonfly Inn in Stars Hollow. Having someone else dial the numbers for him wasn't cheating as long as he did the asking.

"Ah," she said as she sunk against the soft leather with a glass of Champagne in her hand, "so this is how the other half lives in London." Logan chose to hold his comment, knowing that her baiting him was merely her way of subtly reminding him that it was she alone who had the ultimate power over him.

"So, Lorelai, how was your flight?"

"Not bad, Limo Boy, although I should probably just call you Gulfstream from now on. But I am definitely mentioning it to my mother that she and my father should look into a jet, for business travel purposes of course."

"Did I say thank you yet for agreeing to fly over here and meet me?"

"No, but I will find many many ways for you to make it up to me. Now, explain this little plan. But first, why are we pulling up to the Chanel boutique on a Monday?"

"You actually know where we are? I thought Rory had said you stayed in hostels last time you were in London?"

"Oh, we did stay in hostels, but Chanel is sacred. It was right up there with visiting Westminster Abbey for us. In fact, don't judge me, I know you have Anglican roots, but I actually prayed more at the altar that is the quilted purse than at St. Paul's."

"So that means my next surprise will be a very good one then?"

As they walked towards the store, Lorelai's face fell a little. "Logan, they're closed! The one time I had you in a position where I could liberally abuse your black card, and Chanel's closed!"

Logan shook his head. Rory definitely did not inherit her mother's obsession with shopping, but he guessed this was something that worked out in his favor.

"They're closed because I asked Karl for some privacy. So go ahead, open the door."

She spun around with a look on her face akin to Rory's when he gave her a first-edition Pushkin for her birthday a few weeks earlier. Pure, unadulterated joy and love towards him, the person providing them with such wonders. Ever the gentleman, Logan opened the door, made a slight bow, and ushered Lorelai into her version of a holy place.

"Monsieur Logan! Et vous? You, madame, are absolutely ravishing!" A chic Karl Lagerfield greeted Logan and Lorelai as they stepped into the boutique.

"Ah, oui, Karl, c'est la mere de Rory, Lorelai. Je voudrais vous presenter Madame Lorelai Gilmore."

"Enchantee, Madame." Logan watched how Lorelai could not even stutter out any words as Karl grabbed her hand and kissed it. It dawned on him that Lorelai may not have even understood the conversation, but since Rory spoke multiple languages, he had assumed Lorelai at least knew some French. After all, she was at one point a society girl, and it was de rigeur in Hartford for at least conversational French.

"Monsieur Lagerfield! J'ai espere pour ce moment, non, je l'ai sogne! J'ai pense que ton collection printemps a ete magnifique!"

Logan was pleasantly surprised that Lorelai fell into an amiable conversation with Karl, with an accent that even surpassed Logan's. He made a mental note to ask where she had learned such perfect French so that he could brush up on his. He guessed he shouldn't really be all that surprised, the Gilmore girls remained absolute mysteries sometimes, and their abilities to monopolize conversations with men he was most definitely well-versed in.

"Now, Madame Lorelai, Logan mentioned that you were Rory's mere? Mais, c'est incroyable! You are too beautiful to be a mother!"

"Oh, Monsieur Lagerfield, you are too kind. But I must say, I am surprised to see you in your London boutique when the fall lines are barely months away from presentation."

"Madame, Logan has asked my help on something, and after he begged me with only the true desperation of a man in love, I could not resist."

"Karl, there was no begging! You can't make me out to be such a fool!"

"Oh, relax, Gulfstream, let the world's most brilliant designer think what he wants of you. After all, it's not like I'm going to be an absolute monster-in-law when you got Chanel to close their entire store for me."

After a good browsing through the boutique's wares with their creator explaining the intricacies by her side, Lorelai returned to the chaise where Logan was furiously texting instructions to his secretary on his tiny Blackberry keypad.

"So Gulfstream, playing hooky from the office again? I'm sure the paper will still go out without you." Lorelai baited him again, but Logan had dealt with her low expectations for a while and was truthfully a bit tired of them.

"Actually, I needed to approve the front page before it locked down, and I'm halfway through a merger with a Hong Kong advertising firm that specializes in online media." Her look transformed itself through several stages, but the predominant expression was shock, although Logan expected her to continue to hide any pride or admiration she may have felt for him.

"Ah, so that's why Rory's learning Chinese. And here I thought she was just trying to usurp my title as the Queen of the moo shu. So, you didn't really fly me across the ocean in your jet to buy me a pretty purse, now did you?"

Logan chose instead to call out to Karl to bring out Rory's dress.

"Oh..my…" Logan took her stunned silence as a good thing.

"So does that mean you like it?" He tried to conceal exactly how nervous he was, but his wavering voice betrayed him.

"Oh…my…" At this, Logan smirked a little. He knew he was good, but to render Lorelai nearly speechless was a feat almost unknown to man.

"So I guess this is where an explanation comes in, huh? Okay, Lorelai, I'll be honest with you: I've screwed up with Rory, I've hurt her, broken her heart and been an ass. Although she is my first relationship, I don't want to necessarily use that as an excuse. I know you still hate me and think that I'm not good enough for Rory, which I'm not, by the way, but I promise to wake up every single day and try to be good enough for her. I am in love with your daughter, Lorelai, always have been and always will be. So now, I'm in a familiar position again, groveling to you, asking for your permission. May I ask for Rory's hand in marriage? And please don't say no, since we've kind of already talked about it and I don't want to disappoint her."

"My dear Logan, I'm not entirely Mommy Dearest, and my daughter does have an adorable habit of mumbling things in her sleep about "Rory Huntzberger", so I'm up to speed on this one, for the most part. You are correct, however, in your assumption that I don't particularly care for you. Well, I don't particularly care for who you've been, mainly because you just scream 'Christopher' and both Rory and I have been burned whenever we played with that fire. But kid, you're getting better. From one parental disappointment to another, you're not half bad when you're not arrogantly smirking like a butt-faced miscreant. So, I will concede to you, Logan, but I also will give you a piece of advice on our cherished little girl: you know you can give her the world, but before you do, ask yourself if that's what she really wants. I'd hedge my bets on her just wanting you. Now that the serious stuff is out of the way, is there any chance Karl can make another one of these fabulous things?"

Logan laughed, happy that Lorelai approved both the dress and his actions. He was so struck with giddy, he even parted with his black card to indulge Lorelai for playing along so well.

Three hours and a large sum of money later, even with the generous discounts Monsieur Lagerfield tossed in, Logan and Lorelai headed to grab a bite before she was chauffeured back to the private air strip.

"Sooo Logan, do you want to have some fun?" Lorelai glared impishly over her giant cup of coffee.

"You mean more fun than watching you wheedle a massive mug away from the poor proprietor of this place?"

"I'm talking almost hilarious stories about Rory's childhood that I may or may not have captured on video, simply for posterity. And for VH1, in case they decide to switch their programming to 'Behind the Overseas Correspondent'."

"You are blessed with an evil gift, Lorelai."

"Oh please, Logan, from one wild child to another, do you really think your antics are any less amusing for me?"

"Is that why you didn't like me?" Logan hadn't meant to change the mood of the conversation into a serious one, but he felt more at ease with Lorelai since she had agreed to help him concoct the perfect proposal.

"Partly, yes, because I saw so much of myself in you, and while that should have actually relieved me that Rory sensed that as well, it scared me to think that I would be losing my daughter to someone that she thought was more entertaining or worldly or fun than I was. It hurt to lose that place in her heart, I mean, Rory and I grew up together, which is kind of what happens when you have a child at sixteen. I was angry, mostly at myself, for not realizing that my best friend also was growing up, and I was sad that you seemed to take my place as the 'super-cool party person' for her."

At this, Logan interjected, "However, I have yet to throw her a party where the clown was arrested. That distinct honor belongs to you."

Lorelai smiled, "Ah, yes, the eighth birthday party, one for the ages."

Logan turned serious again, hoping that Lorelai's answer would give him another opportunity to prove himself worthy for her daughter. "Did you regret it?"

"I regret not conning you into buying me Chanel ski-boots, but no, Logan, never once have I regretted Rory. I regret that she had to grow up without a lot of things you would never think of living without, like a real house, or her dad being around for all those father-daughter moments I tended to mock, but I don't regret giving her a childhood away from society and people who would have done nothing more than written her off as a scandal, no matter how many Ivies she got into or awards she won. And along with never regretting Rory, I will never regret how my life turned out because of her, either. Yes, to the outside world, I ran away from privilege, wealth and a seemingly perfect life. To me, I escaped such a crushing environment for the sake of my kid, so that she got to grow up knowing what being loved felt like, even if we couldn't afford half the things her friends had. Did Rory tell you about when we moved?"

"You moved? I thought you always have lived in Stars Hollow?"

"We always have, but we've only lived in our house for twelve years."

"Where else did you live? I'm sure Rory would have pointed out any other house you guys lived in, I mean, I've been on the town tour at least a dozen times, especially taking longer routes to avoid Miss Patty on her particularly lustful days."

"We lived at the Independence Inn, but she never showed you it because it burned down a while ago."

"You lived in a hotel? Seems like a rather Gilmore-esque beginning to a childhood."

"We didn't live in the hotel, I cleaned the hotel. We lived in the potting shed on the property. Until she was seven, Rory thought that was an actual house, given that she really had little concept of what they were. It was a simple, one-room kind of deal, the bath tub sat in the middle of it, around Rory's fifth birthday I made curtains to go around it so it would seem more like a real bathroom. But you know, she never once complained, not even when Santa only brought her one present instead of the mountains her friends got, not when she wore clothes made out of my old tee-shirts. The only time I really felt bad about how she grew up was when she was eleven. It was after my parents' Christmas party, and my mother and I had gotten into a spectacularly loud fight about something so trivial, I think it was that Rory had a run in her tights, but we couldn't afford a new pair that was up to my mother's standards. She heard me crying after we got home, and all she did was curl up beside me, put her hand on my heart, and thank me for choosing to have her. Me, being thanked by my own child for not taking the easy way out. That made me feel so selfish, that I purposely took her away from people who could have given her everything, and it scared me. That's what made me understand the only thing Rory's ever wanted her entire life: to be wanted. I think that's why she was so scared in the beginning with you, kid, because she knew you didn't need her or anything, and she wanted you."

Logan felt that this was yet another time he needed to lay his heart out on the line. "That's what I'm scared of, Lorelai. That she's not going to want or need me like I need her."

"Oh kid," Lorelai's voice softened to a register Logan had never heard before. "That's one thing you'll never have to worry about with Rory. You're it, hon, in case you didn't know. Her mind was made up for her about you the minute you kissed."

"Mine was made up the minute she looked at me, her eyes freak me out like you'll never believe."

"Why, was the mighty Logan Huntzberger just admitting that his playboy reputation was brought down by a simple bat of the eyelashes?"

"The hell, Lorelai. You know the power of the eyes, what can I say, they're my Achilles heel."

"Not a bad spot to be defenseless, eh?"

"Haven't minded all that much, except when she was angry or hurt, then those baby blues of hers were absolute torture."

"Oh Limo Boy, you've got it bad! Can't say I mind hearing that my daughter's future husband, the love of her life, is in deep as well."

"I'm all in, Lorelai, all in." She smiled a little, but Logan couldn't really read her expression after he told her that. She seemed wistful, like she escaped to a place where she was untouchable, lost in her thoughts. He knew the look though, sometimes he found Rory with that same gleam in her eyes, and he knew enough not to press it.

A few moments later, she snapped to attention and grinned deviously at him once more. "So Huntzberger, according to my mother, Rory's in line to get quite the rock from you when you finally make her an honest woman."

"Sadly, it is Huntzberger tradition to pass down the storied engagement ring from son to son, so yes, there is a garish diamond that will be on Rory's finger, hopefully for society parties only."

"So if she's never planning on wearing it, does that mean someone, say me, could be entrusted with its safekeeping between balls?"

"Yes, if you were that someone with a heavily guarded bank vault and a secret access code. But, I almost don't want to give it to her. I mean, I know she deserves it, but she'll hate it, it practically weighs down the hand, and it's almost the antithesis of Rory."

"How big is this ring that we're talking about?"

"Six carat emerald cut center stone, three carat emerald side stones." He sighed, almost hating how mechanical he sounded, tallying up the ring from almost an insurance point of view.

"We're talking twelve carats?"

Logan grimaced. "Not counting the infinity band diamonds, yes."

"Jesus, there's more? Do you have any idea how much that's worth?"

"Umm, I think the last appraisal put it over two million, but I'm not really up on that figure."

"You're telling me that my daughter will be wearing a ring that's technically worth more than my life?"

"Only when she has to. I think she likes the ring I got her already a lot more."

"Oh yeah, she never takes it off, much like you, I assume," she said, indicating his platinum band, a constant presence on his finger. He looked down, shrugged and told her, "A few of my neighbors thought we were married, and it's become a regular part of my life here. I take it off only when I'm at events I know I'll be photographed at, or when I'm home, just to avoid the crap that would come with it."

"You mean like the dozens of girls that are going to mourn the loss of you, much like they did when you and Rory first got together?"

"Oh jeez, she told you about that?"

"Told me? HA! I camped out in her dorm room just to be closer to all the rumors and gossip flying around Yale when that happened. I was even mistaken for her at a store in New Haven when the store clerk greeted me and some of the snots overhead my name."

"Ah, so that's why the rumor of me sleeping with Colin's ex-step-mother kept popping up. People thought you were her." Realization dawned on him and he had to laugh. He had to laugh at his entire experience with Lorelai today. It hadn't gone as expected, but he learned that rarely did anything go as expected with her. The range of emotions he felt today, from absolute fear to a sort of contentment and acceptance, surprised him. Lorelai cleared her throat and shot him a quick, teasing smile.

"So, kiddo, I think it's high time I headed back to Rory's side of the Atlantic, don't you think?"

"Oh shoot, Lorelai, you're right. Rory's gonna be suspicious if I don't call her soon."

"Before I go, I just wanted to say something. You're a good kid, Logan, good for Rory too. I'm so happy my little girl gets to spend her life with someone she really loves. And don't think just because she's changing her name doesn't mean we don't think of you as a Gilmore. We don't need a wedding and a license to tell you, welcome to our little corner of the world. You're home, kid, we're your home." With that, Lorelai got up and left Logan sitting at the table, thinking about her last statement. He had little doubt about the sincerity in her voice, and yet again, he was shocked by the actions of the Gilmore girls.

Logan spent the next few weeks buried in work, struggling not only with the thousands of things he was now responsible for, but also attempting to plan a surprise proposal worthy of Rory. He sighed as another knock on his office door stole his precious little privacy from him. "Mr. Huntzberger? Miss Lorelai Gilmore is on line three."

"Thanks Judy, I'll take it in here. Logan Huntzberger"

"Jeez, kid, I'm almost tempted to call back and be blown away again by the amazing amount of enthusiasm in your voice."

"I'm sorry Lor, I'm beat. Between the Chinese businessmen who don't believe in sleep and the massive Web campaign, I forgot what the world looks like outside of my office."

"Poor little Logie-bear!"

"Okay, low blow. Where did you hear that?"

"My glorious mini-me of course, she was telling me all the nicknames your insipid former bed bunnies used."

"That's random, even for you two. How the hell did you get on that topic?" He shook his head, utterly confused at what Lorelai was telling him."

"Movie night, of course. We were in the video store, and Rory mentioned she wanted to see 'Capote', but I countered with 'To Kill A Mockingbird' to complete our Gregory Peck night, and Lulu wanted to know why people hurt the cute little birdies."

"I'm so not following, which means I've spent far too much time away from Ace."

"Short story shorter, we decided that Lulu's question pretty much resembled any and all dinner conversation you had on your 'dates', if you can call them that."

"To tell you the truth, they were usually stupider than that. Not like I actually listened or anything, but the few words I did catch usually were 'trust-fund', 'marriage' and 'Mrs.-insert name here- Huntzberger."

"Oh, Logie-bear's so silly! Giggle, hair toss, giggle!"

"Lorelai, seriously."

"Oh Logie-bear, my name's not Lorelai, silly! It's Muffy Glockenspiel, but I think Muffy Huntzberger sounds so much better!"

"I'm gonna cancel that order I called Karl about, you can kiss your Chanel boots goodbye!" He went straight for the jugular, knowing she would cease with the affectations and provide the conversation with a valid point.

"You wouldn't….okay, so I was really calling to chat up my favorite soon to be son and see how you were coming along with your end." Logan smiled at her choice of words: he had rarely been called son without some implication of failure or disappointment. The way Lorelai tossed it around freely in their conversation meant so much to him; acceptance, support, even a modicum of love for him. He understood that Lorelai meant it as well, she really saw him as her son, not her daughter's soon to be husband.

"Well, I had a weak moment and I trusted Finn with some of the editing, so I'm crossing my fingers that nothing too awful shows up there, but with him, trust is always an issue."

"Oh, don't worry about our Australian friend, Logan. I've got it all taken care of…" She laughed manically, simultaneously worrying and comforting Logan. Lorelai could handle Finn with surprising skill, and his friend was almost in love with Rory's mother as well. He wasn't aware of all the particulars, but Rory had told him that Finn was a regular face in Stars Hollow for Gilmore movie nights.

"What about you? How's it looking for me?"

"I'm saying two weeks. I am wining and dining my friend, repairing our relationship back to its former state. They pinky-swear not to ruin your night."

"So two weeks it is then. Remember, tell no one we spoke."

"Roger that, the fox is in the hen house. I repeat, the fox is in the hen house."

Logan chuckled. "I thought you would appreciate that. See you in a few weeks Lorelai."

Logan paced nervously back and forth in the confined space of the church bell tower, happy that his hideout afforded him a view of Stars Hollow, but anxious to see that the day would go off without a hitch. The hours upon hours he had spent planning this day made him even more worried that somehow his plan would fall apart and she would be disappointed. He attempted to tailor this day for her, acquiescing to her wish that it not be flamboyant or obscenely expensive. Oh, he shelled out enough for it to not even be remotely near cheap, but he spent his money wisely to make her happy. Phase 1 was scheduled to commence in only a few moments' time.

He smiled as he heard the strains of Stevie Wonder's 'Isn't She Lovely' fill the Stars Hollow square, and watched the almost choreographed movements of the townsfolk as they circled the tiny place. Then it struck him that Miss Patty probably did choreograph today, knowing Rory's insane hometown, there had most likely been a few thousand town meetings about it. Of course, Logan had approached the town elders together with Lorelai, he had learned enough from the snippets Rory had told him about Taylor's inane obsessive need to approve all happenings in Stars Hollow. Right on cue, his cell buzzed in his pocket with 'Lorelai' on the ID.

"Classy first number, Huntzberger, I must say, if there ever is a song to wake someone up at an ungodly hour, Stevie Wonder would be on my list. Metallica also would be on there, but so would Stevie."

"Thanks, I know Lane had to dig deep into her audiophile brain folders to push aside all the whiney Morrissey."

"So, what else is on the Logan plus Rory equals forever soundtrack?"

"A little Frank, a little Bono, I have reviewed my Gilmore Girls rule book, and really, what else says 'I love you' like U2?"

"I knew I liked you! A good man always knows his Irish rockers."

Logan smiled; Lorelai and Rory were so completely alike, it was almost scary. He couldn't wait for the day when his own kids reached that point in their lives. He imagined his adorable daughter, who would of course be a daddy's girl, and his impish son, wondering what qualities each of them would inherit from himself and Rory. He hoped they would have their mother's delicious eyes and his sense of adventure, and he also hoped they would never have a day where they weren't told 'I love you', like his own childhood. For as many reservations as he carried about his ability to be a father, Rory quelled each and every single one.

_What if I'm away on business?_

_If we're not with you, exploring whatever city while you're in the office, then we'll have videophones and webcams._

_What if I miss a soccer game?_

_Then I'll make sure you're their baseball coach and Grandpa Mitchum can be your assistant._

_What if I'm an awful father?_

_That's not going to happen, babe. When we have kids, it's inevitable that we're going to make mistakes. But we are going to love our children and tell them that every day of their lives. Logan, half of fatherhood is just showing up!_

_You totally conned that from the Latin, didn't you?_

_I may or may not have added my own little Gilmore twist. But you know that you'll be a good father, Logan._

_And you're going to be the best mother, Ace._

_You know that saying that all the time isn't going to get you out of diaper duty, right?_

_Hey, I had to try._

The opening strains of 'God Only Knows' could be heard both through Logan's cell phone as well as the windows of the bell tower.

"Nice touch, Logan, going with the French cover instead of the Brian Wilson version."

"Hey, I wanted to show her that I am a man of the world."

"Um, ew. Don't get sappy on me. Anyway, I hear the sounds of the coffee pot being emptied, so I will make the first delivery of the sunflowers and call you after we hit Luke's for breakfast."

Several hours later, Stars Hollow looked like it had been cluster-bombed by the Connecticut floral industry. Everywhere Logan could see, there were sunflowers, and every person scurrying around also carried at least one. The sappy music continued to play, but he made sure to slip in some Barry White, Tom Jones and Marvin Gaye, just for his own amusement. He was surprised that Rory hadn't called him, or at least texted him, especially since he had seen her attempt to make her way to Luke's, but she had been foiled every few feet by someone else shoving flowers at her. He silently congratulated himself on his masterful mind, and thanked his mother for her mysterious gift of extracting utter compliance from florists. He worked out how he felt about his family accepting Rory; it wasn't the worst that could happen. He almost liked that his father and Rory got along, because she offered him a different perspective on the man he had pegged as emotionally icy. His mother also seemed to make her peace with her future daughter-in-law; from what Rory told him, Shira was very disturbed by Honor's announcement, and decided that Rory was her non-pregnant ally against her impending grandmother status. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was about time for him to slip on his tuxedo and sneak down towards his next destination.

Logan sat nervously on the couch in the Black, White and Red bookstore, waiting for Kirk to finish setting up the projection screen. Finn was milling around in the background, admiring his handiwork with some of the photographs he had assembled.

"Man, that one of you two at the scavenger hunt is amazing! You're right, angry does work for her!"

"God, you're telling me you actually managed to capture the exact moment she found out she was the one who had to streak through Sterling during midterms?"

"And miss the look on your face when you thought she was going to castrate you? Never! That single picture is a monumental moment in your relationship."

"How do you figure?" His drunk Australian friend piqued his interest with his flippant comment, an unusually insightful one for the intoxicated party animal.

"Well, it was Reporter Girl's first event as a member, and by the time we reached the library, you had actually managed to convince her that the entire campus seeing her naked wasn't going to be a big deal since you were going to cover her with your body. Added to the fact that you both were sporting shades straight from Risky Business, so you could barely make out your eyebrows."

"Your point?"

"Mate, you offered yourself up as a sacrificial lamb for her sake, and you don't voluntarily strip for just anyone, not since she came around."

"I'm still missing it, help me out here."

"Well, maybe this picture will clue you in." With this, Finn shoved a Polaroid into his hands, then scampered a few couches away for protection.

"FINN! How long have you had a picture of my wife's butt? If I find out there's a copy of this circulating on the internet, you can kiss ever fathering children goodbye!" Logan was so blinded by his rage, he didn't notice the modifications Finn had made to the grainy picture.

"Your wife? That rolled off a bit too easily, mate. Did you guys elope?"

"No, we've just become accustomed to calling each other that, my neighbors think we're married already."

"Ah, so that's why there's a suspicious platinum accoutrement that never leaves your left hand, and what do you know, Reporter Girl has a matching one! Clever, young Huntz, clever."

"Finn, you can't tell anyone, okay? Oh my god, Finn, what's written on our butts? You can't be serious." Logan looked at the text wrapped around the image of him and Rory: "Congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Logan and Rory Huntzberger! Their future's so bright, they gotta wear shades!"

"It's just a wedding announcement, mate, no need to get your panties knotted."

"When did you make this?"

"Right after the event. Don't worry, it's strictly LDB."

"But that was like six months ago! Nobody knew I was planning on proposing!"

"Hah, you think you're that unreadable? Let's just make a deal; in exchange for you getting the hard copy of that photo of Rory's delectable backside, I get insider information on the 'I do' date so I can win the pool."

"Deal. But do not ever refer to any part of Rory as delicious, luscious or delectable. That is reserved for me, the husband." He watched as Finn staggered back, clutching his heart.

"It can't be! Logan Huntzberger, the mythical creature of the night, the stuff that playboy legends are made out of, called himself a husband! I must drink until I can drink no more!"

"Hah, thank you Finn. I'll call you afterwards and let you know, Spencer Tracy."

Logan checked his watch again, wanting to time this perfectly. "Okay, Kirk, she'll be here in about a minute and a half. Start rolling!"

The theater dimmed, and Logan's attention was drawn to the black and white images on the screen. Finn really had been masterful, piecing together a scene that resembled an old movie.

"Whatcha watching?" Logan smiled as he heard her voice behind him.

"Something special. You want in?" He still hadn't turned around, afraid of how much self-control seeing her would require. He felt a warm body pressed up against him, his fingers meeting raw silk.

"Hi you." She breathed, staring deep into his eyes. He took her in, his eyes slowing straying down, appreciating each and every curve of her figure. He noted how perfectly the dress fit her, taking his breath away. He knew she understood his gaze and that it was not made of pure lust; oh yes, he wanted to rip the dress off her, but for now, he was content just basking in the happy glow she radiated.

"So what's this something special? It looks old, there's a plane, so I'm guessing Casablanca?"

"Of all the gin joints in the world, she had to walk into mine." He knew quoting the film would make her smile, and he was rewarded when she played along.

"You know," she said as she snuggled in closer towards him, "I always wished she didn't have to leave him." She sounded wistful, but Logan felt her tense up as she paid more attention to the screen.

"Logan, that's not Humphrey Bogart, that's, that's…us!"

"Aw, you always were my little ace reporter!"

"Why are you watching a movie about us?"

"Shh, this is my favorite part." He grabbed her hand and kissed the palm silently as she drew in a breath sharply when she saw what flashed onscreen. Finn had assembled a collection of the pair's many quotations about each other, ranging from Rory's butt-faced miscreant to Logan's girlfriend grimace. He had also masterfully inserted love sayings in between their own words, so that even Logan was impressed.

"What do you say we head on out of here? I heard the next feature's kind of a rough cut." He stood up and took her hand, gently tugging her towards the door. He finally got the full effect of the dress, and his breath was caught in his throat. She was radiant, moreso than he had ever seen her before, pulsating with a slightly different rhythm than he was used to. He knew that he would always imagine her like this, although this sight of her would probably compete with her coming down the aisle and holding their first child.

They reached their destination, the gazebo, surrounded only by candlelight and sunflowers. It was starting to be a bit chillier than it had been earlier, but Logan couldn't feel a thing. He grabbed Rory's waist and mumbled, "May I have this dance?"

She smiled a little and jokingly said, "Maybe if there was some music, Limo Boy."

"Anything the lady wants, the lady gets!" With a sweep of his hand, twinkle lights lit up and the strains of Moon River began to fill the air. Logan also saw the townspeople and some of their Yale friends start to make a border around the square, each holding a candle. The effect was beautiful, and Logan knew Rory finally understood what this night was about when they saw Lorelai's face illuminated by the taper she held. Logan turned his attention back to Rory; "So now, may I have this dance?" He pulled her into his arms, sighing a little when she pressed into him. They swayed a little, back and forth, entranced by their song and the atmosphere. Logan licked his lips, then took a step back from Rory, looking her deep in the eyes.

"I've said from the beginning that you're special, that you're different to me. You make me better, you make me stronger, you make me who I am. I love how you refuse to talk to me in the morning unless I'm holding a cup of coffee, I love that you nag me about finishing assignments, I love how you brush up against me when I'm making dinner. I love holding your hand when we're walking, I love brushing the hair off your face, I love looking into your eyes when I make you mad. I love making up with you after fights, I love knowing everything about you only to discover something I never thought possible. Rory, I love you. I love all of you. I love who I am when I'm with you. I want it to be you and me, just like this, every single day. I can't promise that I won't make you cry sometimes, but I can promise to always find a way to make it better. I will promise, however, to love you forever and for always. Rory, you're my soul mate, you're who I want to wake up to every morning. I want to share my life with you, truly make it our life. I want to fight with you over the morning paper, have soccer games in the backyard, and go to sleep every night holding you in my arms. Will you marry me?"

Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. During his speech, he had somehow managed to drop to one knee and take both of her hands. She was trying to contain the tears, but she was smiling uncontrollably. Her lips broke apart, and instead of a yes, she threw out, "Aren't you forgetting something? Like the giant rock my mother told me about?" He chuckled, then grasped her left hand and slid off her ring. He held it up for her to read the inscription. "I will love you forever and for always." She brought her free hand to her mouth, surprised. "That wasn't there before! I've studied that ring a million times and I have never seen that!"

"I knew you wouldn't want the 'giant rock', as you put it, so I took the liberty of modifying this ring for you, after all, my dear wife to be, I must meet certain standards." She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his ear. "I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and that life is starting now." Logan smiled, happily sated. She said yes. She wanted him, really wanted him, all of him, forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Logan felt pats of congratulations as well as a few tears on his back; everywhere he looked, he saw familiar, friendly faces that shone with obvious love and contentment for the couple. He was swept away from Rory as they were separated by their respective friends into two groups that struggled to exit the over-crowded gazebo. He was far too happy to care that Finn and Colin were capturing his moronic grin with every available media source, including pointing to the cameras that Seth had somehow wired all around the square. Catching his eye, Logan saw Seth motioning to Kirk and mouthing "direct-to-video"with a thumbs up. He heard Lorelai, Babette and Miss Patty wonder about the giant rock that was supposed to make its home on Rory's third finger, but all he could do was chuckle when Rory whirled to fend them off.

"I cannot wear that with a clear conscience! I want no part in the blood diamond trade!"

"So what you're really saying is that you want rubies and Limo Boy should give me the rock?" At this Logan felt his already tightened cheeks smile wider.

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"Oy, the hell Logan? It's bloody early, and I really wasn't planning on sneaking out of Renee's room until Carly found us for a little morning fun!"

"What was I thinking?"

"When you gave the yacht captain the night off? When that god awful British chick cornered you in Rome when we were sixteen? When you at one point thought Mitchum was not Satan reincarnated?"

"No, I mean, you don't marry the first person you're in a serious relationship with! You just don't! Who finds the person you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with when they're 23? It's not normal! Our friends don't marry for love, they marry out of obligation and a fear of losing their trust fund! Oh my god, what if I have a hot secretary? Oh my god, that means I really AM turning into Mitchum. I can't do this!"

"Ah, the saga of Reporter Girl and the rock. Did you talk to your mother again instead of heading straight to your grandfather's liquor cabinet?"

Logan sighed meekly, "No, it was a full-scale Huntzberger tribunal. Freaking Nuremberg next to the Velazquez. Did you know I'm related to royalty, and well, they don't just go proposing to their first girlfriends!"

"I'm not seeing anything but a naked woman right now, come again?"

"Shira said I'm related to royalty, I got the responsibility speech again, the are-you-sure, because my wonderful DAR friend's daughter just ended her affair with the pool boy."

"Are you drunk?"

"Are you serious? Am I you, Finn?

"Christ, Logan. I am not drunk enough to deal with you right now. Close your eyes. Think about waking up in the morning. Who's next to you?"

"Ace is never next to me, she's made it her personal life goal to never sleep on the surface of something when she can always sleep on me."

"You're such a freaking girl. Call Honor. Pregnant women love to yell and cry, and you, dear Huntz, need a baby-mama ass kicking."

Logan had been so thrown for a loop by his mother that it took several moments for Finn's forced realization to strike him. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he imagined, no, remembered waking up in the morning, dark curls splayed across his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her tiny frame. Even in his deepest sleep, he instinctively reached out for her, a fact that he discovered one morning after waking up with her having absolutely no memory when, if at all, she came to bed. I really do want to marry Rory, Logan thought, I do because I can't imagine not waking up with her, arguing with her about literal nonsense, stealing her coffee for fun, I just can't imagine tomorrow without her. His eyes lit up for a second time; cursing, he frantically hit redial.

"Huntzberger, you masochist, didn't Honor ream you out enough?"

"I'm sorry Finn, I really am. I do want to marry her, more than anything, Shira's attack just messed with my head."

"My dear Logan, when have they ever not? Why don't you talk to Mitchum again? Isn't he on your side?"

"I could kiss you Finn, seriously!"

"Oh, we all remember how that turned out, now don't we? That was the night we discovered Mexican jails really are like they sound. Suck it up, call your father and Reporter Girl and report back to me later. But now, I have to go see a girl about some handcuffs."

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Logan grimaced as he shut the door to their apartment when he left for a 'family' dinner. Stupid Yale and their finals, keeping Rory from accompanying him to the mausoleum. He chuckled to himself, realizing how 'Rory' that line of thinking was. He was utterly overjoyed that Mitchum told him he wasn't needed in London until after the New Year, giving him well over a month to sit on their couch and have movie marathons with his fiancée. He loved getting to call her that, it was almost as good as calling her his wife. He looked forward to the business dinners and parties they would attend together, so he could proudly offer an introduction; "Oh, have you met my beautiful wife, Rory? She's a journalist…". He couldn't wait to show her off, but it was different this time. She wasn't like his new Rolex, he wanted to show her off because he was so intensely proud of her standing next to him. He wanted to give her the credit that she normally didn't allow herself, he wanted to show her how much he wanted to be there with her, even at the society functions where he knew she never felt comfortable. She made it tolerable, bearable; she made him want responsibility and routine. He shook his head as he silently examined his life pre-Rory, noting its emptiness, ridiculousness and bitter taste. He pulled his cell phone out and hit the speed dial for Honor.

"Hello my pregnant sister, how are you?"

"I feel fat. I am fat. I made Josh buy stock in Ben and Jerry's because from the way I'm eating, this kid's trust fund could be comprised entirely of Chunky Monkey speculations."

"I hate to burst your bubble, but those guys aren't publicly traded. I will, however, get some Haagen-Dasz just to appease you. How close are you to Mom and Dad's?"

"Well, we're close enough, and by that, I mean we haven't really left the city yet."

"Honor, no! Figures, the one time I'm actually going to be early, you choose to be more than fashionably late."

"I don't see what the big deal is, Dad will be there, so he'll entertain Grandpa, and Mom will then be free to go smoke, leaving you and Rory to your own devices until Josh and I get there. Oh, he requests that you save him at least half the bottle of Scotch this time, since last family dinner, I had to promise him sexual favors to come back."

"Oh God, even if you are pregnant, I definitely do not want to hear about my sister's love life. And for your information, Rory's at home, studying. She's got finals coming up and I had to bribe her with getting out of this dinner just to sleep in our bed. I beg you, do not leave me alone with them!"

"What do you mean she's not coming? She has to come! I NEED another female besides Mom, and Rory eats like a pregnant lady to begin with, so Mom could focus on her plate instead of mine! Do you know she actually warned me the other day about wearing skirts because 'Huntzberger' women don't have fat ankles? Pregnant women have fat ankles! Jeez, you would think she never had children."

"On that note, did you find out if it's a boy or girl yet? Rory wants to buck the nontraditional trend and start loading up on pink or blue. Don't ask for green, though, Ace said she has a particular aversion to that since her sister's baby shower."

"Rory has a sister? How old? And why didn't I know about this?"

"Yeah, Rory's sister Georgia, she's like five, she lives with Rory's dad in Boston."

"How come the Gilmores never talk about her? And how did Rory's toddler sister have a baby shower? Oh wait, nevermind, pregnancy hormones make me a touch slow."

"Gigi's not a Gilmore. She's a Hayden. She's Rory's half-sister, and she's not around much. Next time she's in New Haven visiting Rory, we can all go out to lunch."

"Hayden? Like the Haydens? How is Rory related to them?"

"Her dad, Honor, Chris Hayden. Did you not just process what I said?"

"Rory's a Hayden? Oh my God, did you tell Mom? Wait, can I be there when you tell her? I'd really like to capture her fainting on camera, to channel as motivation in the delivery room. Do you think her face will be shell-shocked or abject horror when she realizes she told a Hayden they weren't good enough for the Huntzbergers?"

"My God, you're evil! And no, I haven't told anyone from our family yet. Very few people know Rory's a Hayden, she went to Straub's funeral, but I don't think people made the connection. And you never answered my question, pink or blue?"

"Much to Josh's dismay, tell Rory I'm expecting tutus and tiaras."

"Holy..congratulations Honor! That's so exciting! I'm going to have a niece!"

"Yeah, well, don't say anything yet. I'm planning on telling them right when Mom eats a baby carrot so she can choke on her own dissatisfaction instead of telling me."

"You've got a deal. Just please try and get there before dinner's actually over so I'm not stuck re-enacting 'Tales From the Crypt'."

"Pinky-swear, baby brother. I'll see you soon."

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The front door looked imposing as ever, much to Logan's surprise. He really had little to worry about with this dinner, one of very few times he could remember not being apprehensive about having to spend a meal with his family. He opened it without ringing the bell, attempting to save the maid a hurried trip to the foyer from wherever his mother had her scrubbing some priceless knick-knack. "Logan, is that you?" he heard his mother's voice call out from the living room. "Yeah," he replied, shucking his coat off and laying it on the table. He walked towards the large room, his shoes softly clicking against the marble. There he found his mother, languidly sipping a rather large martini, aimlessly fingering the tassel on a throw pillow. "Honestly, you would think you went to public school with those manners." He rolled his eyes, fully aware of her disapproving look at him. "Hello to you too, Mother." He whipped around, eyeing the fully stocked bar. As he retreated to the safety of his McKellan, his mother sneered, "Did you leave Rory to park the car as well, my dear?"

"No, she's back at the apartment, but she sends her apologies."

"Doesn't she know it's rude to refuse a dinner invitation?"

"Yes, Mom, she does, I made her stay home to study for her finals. She actually wanted to come to dinner, but I thought I'd be a gentleman like you taught me and not allow her to be subjected to uncouth company."

"Oh, Logan, really. I merely wanted to know if Rory would be joining us tonight, that's all."

"Shira, what time did Mitchum say he would be home?" Logan turned to see his irascible grandfather sidle into the room. His mother choked on her martini at the interruption. "I'm not really sure, Dad, he'll probably be home soon. Why don't you have Logan freshen your drink?" The gruff man only nodded towards Logan, and held out his Baccarat glass. "Now Logan, did you happen to talk to your sister today? She seems to be running a tad behind."

"Yes, Mom, she and Josh are on their way, pregnant women are allowed to be a little late."

"Yes, well…" His mother trailed off uncomfortably, saved by the slamming of the front door and the sound of his father's footsteps, mingled with the carrying of Honor's voice.

"Hello, everybody, look who I found at the front door!" Mitchum seemed in a preternaturally good mood for having just come from the office. Honor walked over to their mother, giving her a slight kiss on the cheek, while Josh made a beeline to Logan at the bar. "Hey man, good to see you again, Josh." Logan whispered. His brother-in-law could only weakly nod and reach for a bottle.

"So, Logan, how are things?" his father congenially stated, halfway through the meal.

"Fine, Dad, just trying to stay out of Rory's way so she can study and get everything ready to hand off the paper. She's also got me running around trying to get Christmas presents for everybody."

"Oh, Logan, she really shouldn't be foisting her responsibilities onto you like that. If she didn't have so many things to concentrate on, she could take care of all of this." Shira clucked disapprovingly.

"Mom, I'm happy to help her out. It saves me the trouble of actually thinking about what to get everyone, she just asked me to pick some things up for her."

"Really, isn't that what a delivery service is for? But of course, she wouldn't use one of those. Or a personal shopper, for that matter."

"Okay, enough." He slammed his fork down, using a tone of voice he thought only his father and grandfather were capable of. "Ace is joining this family because I love her, so get used to it, Mother."

"I, I…" She stuttered, taken aback by his abrupt tone of voice.

"Oh, Mother, do you know what I found out when I ran into Francine Hayden the other day? She just went on and on about her son Christopher and his daughter." Honor broke in, with an air of practiced casualness disguising her true intentions.

"Oh really, dear, that's nice. Christopher taking over the Hayden fortune?"

"Yes, and he's apparently naming his daughter the heiress. Francine told me how lovely she is, Logan, don't tell her, all right? She made me promise not to tell anyone." Logan silently laughed at his sister's antics to antagonize his mother.

"Honor, why would Logan know the Hayden girl? She's hardly one to be off gallivanting with the likes of him. She's probably already been snapped up by a prince or something. Minor scandals withstanding, that family would be absolutely amazing to marry into." Honor could barely contain her glee. "Oh, but Mother, Logan is marrying into the family. Doesn't Rory only use Hayden when she has to?"

"Logan, what is she talking about?" His mother anxiously looked towards him for confirmation.

"Oh, but Mother, you didn't know? Rory is Christopher's daughter. She doesn't use the Hayden last name because she hates the expectations. Now what were you saying about marrying into their family?"

He watched happily as his mother's face paled at her realization of her social faux pas. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but she remained silent. Instead, his grandfather chose to spoke.

"Hayden, you say? Straub was always a good golf partner. Excellent lawyer as well. A good match, Logan, a good match. Give Rory my best." The old man pushed back his chair and left the table succinctly, headed for the library. Shira gasped as the previously grumpy old man completely reversed his former opinion of Rory, oblivious to the almost malicious smiles of the rest of her family.

"Logan, dear, could you please tell Rory that I'd like to get together with her for tea sometime soon? Perhaps I should call Emily and make a lunch date to discuss an engagement party after the holidays. In fact, I think I'll ring her now. Would you please excuse me?" His mother threw down her napkin and huffed out of the dining room.

Honor burst out laughing, followed by chuckles from Logan and Mitchum. Josh even added a guffaw, amused by the reversal of fortune.

"Well, I certainly hope you derived pleasure from that little display, although I must say, you know your mother's not going to be a joy to live with until she's corrected this little society mishap. Was it really necessary to inform her like that? Logan, did you even ask Rory if you could tell us about her family?"

"Relax, Dad, Rory knew I would tell you guys eventually. She just hates the obsequiousness that seems to follow the Hayden name. She wanted to be accepted into our family because of who she is, not her last name. Unfortunately, Mom proved her right that her last name means more than her personality. But if we got to have some fun while doing it, we figured it might be worth it."

"Well, I'm still shocked my father seemed mollified by that statement. I think he might actually like Rory though, this will make family dinners more peaceful. So Honor, how's the baby?"

"Oh, Dad, she's great! We're already thinking of names for her!"

"So I'm going to have a granddaughter?"

"Honor, Rory and I call Adelaide, just in case you were thinking about using it. She wants to use it as a middle name."

"I'm sorry, baby brother, did you just call dibs on a baby name? You can't do that. And anyway, I want to talk to you and Rory next time we get together for lunch. I want her to be the godmother."

"What about me? Shouldn't I be my own niece's godfather?"

"No, I'm not trusting you with my kid until you have your own. Josh's brother is going to be Emily or Lauren's godfather. You can have the next one."

"Fine. Just know that you're not going to be in our wedding."

"What? Oh, we'll see about that!" Honor stomped off towards the front of the house, leaving Josh, himself and Mitchum still seated.

"So, Josh, how's business?"

"Uhh, it's going well, Mr. Huntzberger, my father and I are looking to acquire another building on Fifth Avenue for expansion offices."

"Good to hear, good to hear. And Logan, how's the office in London?"

"Oh, it's great. The merger with the Hong Kong technology firm will be signed later this month, which will launch Huntzberger Media to the forefront of internet news. Rory and I have been bouncing ideas off each other for a couple of weeks, we're thinking about setting up some links to some of our smaller papers, to basically increase universal readership."

"I'm really impressed by the work you're doing, son, you've made the Huntzberger corporation and me very proud." Logan locked eyes with Mitchum, knowing that he really meant every word he said. Just then, Honor rushed in, practically yelling while shoving her tiny phone into Logan's face.

"Rory, tell Logan I'm still in your wedding! Tell him now! I mean it! I am pregnant, so nobody piss me off!"

"Logan." Rory had an edge to her hushed voice, which Logan deduced as her 'I'm in the library and will kick your ass later for doing this to me' tone. "You know your sister and Josh will be in our wedding. Now, your sister is pregnant, so I want you to apologize now, then go get at least six gallons of Chunky Monkey. Better yet, arrange for a daily delivery of them. For a month. We'll talk about this later when we're both home."

"Okay, sorry to disturb you Ace, I know you're in the library. I'll talk to you later. I love you."

"I love you too. Don't expect me before at least midnight."

"Eleven, and I'll meet you to walk you back to the apartment."

"12:30 and I'll call campus services to bring me back."

"11:30, I'll meet you with coffee, drive you back and then make a pot so you can finish studying at home."

"Deal. Don't be late, Huntzberger." Logan sighed as he ended the call, handing the phone back to a calmer Honor. "Rory told me I have to say I'm sorry, and I have to deliver Chunky Monkey to you every day for a month." He adopted a conciliatory yet sarcastic tone for his apology.

"I so like your wife better than you. Get her knocked up so I can have somebody else to be pregnant with, okay?"

"Nice try, sister, little Eli or Ellie isn't happening for a while. I'd like to actually be married first."

"Eli or Ellie? You guys discussed baby names? Aw, how adorable. What are their real names going to be?" At this, Mitchum leaned in a little closer to catch his response.

"Elias Christopher, for Grandpa and Rory's dad, or Lorelai Adelaide, for Rory's tradition and Grandma. But don't worry, they're a long way off. I want Rory to be established in her career before she even thinks about kids."

"Sure, you say that now. Wait six months after the wedding and see how many times you enjoy sleeping on the couch for wanting to put off kids for a while." Josh jumped into the conversation, happy to have an ally in Logan.

"Fine, whatever. I'm tired and dying for some of that pumpkin ravioli we have in our freezer. Oh, do you think it'd be good with syrup? Ohh, definitely sprinkles too. Come on, Josh. Goodnight Dad, Logan, we'll talk to you soon."

"Good night Honor, I'll see you at the Christmas Gala. Have a safe drive home." Left with just Mitchum at the table, Logan made a motion to adjourn to the library to see what his grandfather was up to. While strolling down the hallway, Mitchum put his arm around Logan and pulled him closer. "Your grandfather will be very touched to hear the baby names you and Rory picked out. It will mean a lot to him."

"What will mean a lot to me?" Logan's grandfather interjected, catching the tail end of Mitchum and Logan's conversation.

"The baby names Rory picked out, Grandpa."

"Oh, Logan, she's not pregnant, is she? Your mother is going to have a field day if you have a shot gun wedding."

"No, Grandpa, she's not and won't be for a while. We were just discussing children a while back and we decided on some names. Rory wants Elias, Eli for short, if we have a boy, and she'd like to use Grandma's name for our daughter's middle name, since she knows how much I loved Grandma." Logan thought he detected a twinkle in his grandfather's eye that seemed almost out of place with the man's gruffness.

"You know, my Adelaide had eyes like Rory's. I'm sure my great-granddaughter will be just as beautiful. Now, let's discuss the business."

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"Logan, don't make me go! I am in no mood to have your mother fawn all over me and watch my grandmother fight to drag me around the party all night. You, you get to hang out at the sub-party while I get grilled on this mythical ring I have neither seen nor want to see. How about we stay home and compare the American Office to the British version? Oh, and Chinese. And pizza." She had her arms folded in front of her like a petulant child, her hair half-done and one side of her face made up. He placed his hands on her hips, drawing her closer to him.

"Ace, I promise you a John Cleese marathon, followed by repeat showings of the Princess Bride and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I will even watch This is Spinal Tap with you and do re-enactments if you go to this party with me. I already got you a dress and shoes, and you look half pretty already. So, please?"

"Half pretty? You've definitely lost the Huntzberger charm if the best you can muster is half pretty." Her lips pouted, although her eyes told him that she of course was going to go.

"Okay, you are the most beautiful woman in the world, especially undressed. Now would you please go finish getting ready? My mother specifically instructed us to be early so we can 'properly' greet her guests." He gave her a little push back towards their bathroom.

"Properly greet her guests? Should I work on my curtsy for her? Maybe break out the tiara from Gran?"

"Okay, I'll even give you one of your presents early if you just go finish getting ready. And I'll have Frank drive around until we're only fifteen minutes early, instead of the whole half-hour she requested us for."

"Grr, you're such a pain." She whirled and stalked towards the bathroom.

"Life is pain, highness!" She popped her head out of the bathroom, her toothbrush stuck haphazardly on the side. "Do not think a smirk and movie quotations means you win, you miscreant!" He smiled at her reference of their prank war.

"Put on the pretty dress and I'll give you your present. Now go!"

Thirty minutes later, she emerged in a sparkling burgundy taffeta gown, pulling on the sky-high stilettos she knew he loved. Frowning, she made her way over to him as he finished tying his bow tie. She reached up to his collar, smoothing it out.

"Here, let me do that. Thank god I memorized the directions from Gran's funeral. My grandpa always said there's a certain calm that comes with a well-tied bow tie. There, now that looks right. Now why don't I see a large box in your hands, mister? Or could it be that my present is simply too large to fit inside a box, like say, my very own Yale coffee stand guy to follow me wherever I go?" She continued brushing his shoulders, removing imperceptible specks. He smiled at her, slowly removing his hands from his pockets.

"I didn't have time to wrap them, I just picked them up from the vault a few hours ago. But since you've been such a good sport about it, there's a, well, a present in each hand." He held out both his hands towards her, curled into fists.

"Vault? You have a vault? Is that where your mother and Tony Kushner play canasta?"

"No, that's the game room, silly. Now, Miss Gilmore, please select a hand." She closed her eyes and silently pointed to his right hand. He walked behind her and situated the necklace on her bare skin, making her shiver as he trailed his now empty fingers down her exposed back. Her hand flew to her clavicle as her eyes fluttered open and took in her reflection in the mirror. "Oh my god, Logan! This is too expensive! You have to return it! I can't possibly wear this!"

"Ace, it'd be kind of hard to return a family heirloom, we've had it for years, that's kind of the point of the heirloom part."

"Logan, I can't wear this! What if something happens to it? Does your family know you gave this to me?"

"Of course, my grandpa gave me the okay the last time we had dinner. It was my grandma Adelaide's necklace that my grandpa gave her for their first Christmas together. I told him about the names we had picked out for kids, and he said he wanted you to have a little part of my grandma since he knows the two of you would have gotten along so well. Plus, he knows how important you are to me, so he's trying."

"Oh, Logan, I love it. It's too beautiful." He bent down to kiss her cheek softly.

"We both know it's only a necklace, and you're the one that's really too beautiful."

"Was that sap I just heard? My God, it's like living with Tom Hanks in a Nora Ephron flick. Do you have Meg Ryan stashed in the closet?"

"Oh, now is that any way to talk to the man who just gave you a necklace worth more than the gross national product of Micronesia?"

"You have got to be kidding me." Her eyes glazed a little and she reached for her non-existent sleeves to fiddle with nervously.

"Well, since you're in such a good mood, I'll just give you the ahem, other present now." He opened up his other hand to reveal the storied Huntzberger engagement ring. She looked down and gasped.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. no. I like the one I have. I'm not sure I could even lift my hand with that piece of Africa on it. Plus, there would be the additional weight of the millions of souls that perished into making that thing on it."

"Ace, my politically correct darling, I got a sworn statement from Harry Winston that testifies that this ring was in no way, shape, or form, involved in the blood diamond trade."

"There's really a Harry Winston? I totally thought that was just like Ruth Chris, or Dave and Buster's, random names. And you did not do that, did you?"

"Would you feel better about wearing it if I did?" He moved to grab her left hand.

"Can I at least keep my ring on with it? I mean, I haven't taken it off since you got it for me when we were in London."

"Yes, but can you switch it to the other hand? It looks too much like a wedding ring, and I've already had to quell Huntzberger family fears that our wedding should involve a shot gun."

"But why do you get to wear your ring?" Her lips were pouty again, but she slid off her ring and transferred it to her right hand.

"Because people don't look at the guy's hand. Plus, I rarely take it off. I told my dad it was easier to fend off girls if I had it on. I think he understands it. Now, are you ready to go?"

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"Rory, Logan, there you are, darlings. Rory, what a gorgeous dress you're wearing, Oscar?" Shira greeted them overenthusiastically as they made their entrance into the decorated mansion. She kissed Logan and then pulled Rory into a loose hug, placing her lips near Rory's cheek.

"Vera Wang, actually. Logan picked it out for me, he has a better idea of what dress was appropriate for your Christmas Gala." She squeezed his hand tighter, slightly digging the ring into his palm.

"Well, you know Logan, he has such an eye for dress sizes. Now, dear, would you mind if I borrowed Rory and made the rounds with our DAR friends? Tweenie Halpurn has just been dying to see Rory's ring." Shira started moving away from Logan, taking Rory with her.

"Of course, Mother, I see some business associates I should say hello to. Meet me at the bar in thirty, Ace? I love you." He reluctantly dropped her hand and watched his mother drag her over towards a gaggle of identically-dressed women.

"So, I see your mother found out about the Hayden thing, huh?" He turned and smiled as he saw Lorelai saunter up to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey Lorelai, good to see you! I didn't know you were coming. Or did Rory mention it and I forgot?"

"No, I forgot to tell her that my mother decided to force me into attending this instead of a Friday Night Dinner. But hey, if your mother has top shelf liquor and not enough salmon puffs, this could turn into a decent little shindig."

"Oh, trust me; my mother has more than decent liquor. You could probably get the bartender to slip a Xanax into your martini; I think that's what my mother likes as garnish." She chuckled at his little dig against Shira.

"Remind me to tell you the time when my mother offered me a Quaalude, that was a crowning moment for a girl's first break up."

"Who did you manage to drag with you tonight?"

"I got Luke to come, but I almost asked Michel since I'm stumped for his Christmas gift and he would die if he saw this house."

"You can tell him I'll arrange for a private tour with our housekeeper. I'm sure my mother will be at a spa drying out after the holidays, but then again, she'd probably love Michel."

"Oh my god, you're so right. I mean, Emily adores Michel, so of course your mother would too. What is it with rich society women and menstrual French concierges?"

"That, Lorelai, is a question for the ages. For now, can I escort you to the bar?"

"Oh, definitely kid. Lead the way to the hooch! I'll even buy the first round."

"Lorelai, it's an open bar."

"Well, duh, Limo Boy, you think I would waste my money when I can simply do shots of your father's?"

"Touché, touché." He tucked her arm under his and wound their way past the glittering society couples.

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"Ugh. I so should have grabbed a glass of champagne before your mother chained me to her side. Do you know how many people grabbed my hand tonight? I am so thankful Grandma made me get a manicure before tonight." Rory sighed as she half collapsed on Logan while wearily ordering a drink.

"Why hello Elizabeth, steal Debbie's husband yet?" Her head swiveled to face Lorelai, who was next to them at the bar.

"No, Conrad and I just barely made it down the aisle."

"You do realize that was completely anachronistic and therefore makes me better than you, right?" Rory weakly waved her hand in a show of defeat, then pushed off of Logan to stand on her own.

"So, Rose, who gave you the heart of the ocean?"

"Titanic?" Logan guessed, proud that he caught on to their little pop culture game.

"Huh? Explain please, I've just spent the last hour being questioned by Constance Betterton if topiaries in the shape of deceased pets are tacky or merely unrefined." Rory began to rub her temples while he delicately massaged her stiff shoulders.

"Silly DAR woman, they should know topiaries must only be of zoo animals, no mere domestic animals for carved shrubbery. I mean the DeBeers mine around your neck, but hey, we could talk about how the Rockefeller Plaza rink somehow made its way onto your finger. Take your pick."

"Okay, the necklace is Logan's grandmother's; he gave it to me as a bribe to go to this thing. The ring, you knew about. Heck, I knew about it. It's just a huge difference between imagining it and actually wearing it."

"Has my mother seen that yet? She might faint into her salmon puff."

"No, I haven't seen Grandma or Grandpa all night. I thought they never missed this."

"Well, Ace, no worries. I think I see Richard pushing Emily around the dance floor. Care to join them?" He grasped her hand and tugged her towards the marble floor. He nodded casually towards the orchestra director, who eased into 'Moon River'. As he led Rory out onto the floor, a small 'aw' of admiration rippled through the well-dressed crowd. He watched as her head twisted around, noticing that everyone had ceased their conversations to glance at the couple.

"Logan," she said in a small voice as she tried to disappear into his shoulder.

"Shh, Ace, let them look. It doesn't matter. It's just you and me out here, babe, you're the only girl I see." He pulled her in tighter, wanting to envelop her completely in his arms. He was slowly starting to understand this innate need to protect her, shield her from everything hurtful. He was exploring this new idea, that his happiness was contingent on her happiness. It wasn't necessarily a completely new concept for him, but it was surprising to him that he had adapted so easily to it. She occupied most of his thoughts, him considering her feelings during his decision-making process, certainly a new thing for him. He considered her a part of himself, but there were instances that taught him that she was her own person, a separate entity that needed to be considered, feelings and thoughts taken into the deliberation of choices. He tried to anticipate how she would react to things, but she continually surprised him. He liked that about her, but sometimes he wished he had something more than an inkling of what she was thinking. He was happy though, and content to have an entire lifetime to figure her out. The song was drawing to a close, and Logan finally took notice that the dance floor had cleared except for Rory and him. Looking up, he could see the smiles on the guests' faces, and hear the soft applause they generated. Rory curled into his side, murmuring in his ear, "Should I bow or something?"

"No, Ginger, I think your audience is fine with just a smile."

"Aw, nuts! And here I was, practicing my curtsy for the Junior League." She tried to keep a straight face during her Southern drawl, but she broke out in laughter.

"Ace, your accent is terrible. Almost as bad as your British one. Come on, at least I had Vera make your dress out of something other than curtains." He pulled her towards the area where her grandparents were holding court.

"What do you mean, had Vera make for me? Did you get yet another designer gown specifically for me? What is wrong with department stores, I ask? Even Neiman Marcus, seriously!"

"Aw, now Ace, you know Huntzbergers don't do off the rack!" They were interrupted by Emily, squealing when she caught sight of Rory's hand.

"Oh, Rory, you're finally wearing it! Logan, it's beautiful! Did you make sure Constance and the DAR ladies saw it? That's all they could talk about last meeting, that and Nora's face-lift. Anyway, how are you two?"

Rory beamed as she smiled at Logan before she answered her grandmother. "We're great, Grandma, finals went well, and Logan's home until after the new year. We're just trying to finish up some last-minute Christmas shopping."

"Will you be joining us on Christmas Eve for dinner? We'd like to celebrate before we leave for Prague again."

"Oh, Grandpa, Prague?" She turned, taking Logan with her, to face her grandfather.

"You know how much I love their bridges in the winter. And arguing with their cab drivers. Logan, are you doing any traveling? Between Rory and the Wall Street Journal, I've been kept apprised of your London business."

"Actually, I'm headed to Hong Kong in late January to finish up a merger with a technology firm to launch part of the company online, which will help boost flagging readership. I'm very excited, it's been our pet project for a couple of months now." As he said 'we', he indicated between himself and Rory, drawing an amused raised eyebrow from Emily.

"Oh, well, when will you be back in Hartford? Shira called me to schedule a date for an engagement party. Very interesting, if you ask me." She shot a look at Rory that spokes volumes, but Logan couldn't really follow what it meant.

"She found out about Dad, Grandma, so now she's really happy about the engagement."

"Oh really? Well, of course she is. If you excuse us, dear, I simply must catch Constance before she has to be carried out of here. We'll see you at seven on the 24th, right?"

"Emily, Richard, good to see you again. Rory and I will see you in a few days. Good night." He smiled as the older couple left them alone at last, in a secluded alcove perfect for some quality time. His smile grew even wider as he felt Rory's hands slipping under his dinner jacket while finding his lips. "Next year we go away for Christmas, or at least for this party."

"I'm with you, but next year we'll have a little niece to worry about, remember? And I don't think Honor would like it very much if her daughter's aunt and godmother wouldn't be around for her first Christmas."

"Godmother? Really? Oh, babe, I have to go find her and thank her! Have you seen her?"

He laughed at her excitement over learning the news. "I think she's wherever the most amount of food is. Go ahead, I'll catch up with you later. I love you." She quickly pecked him on the cheek and scampered off to find his sister. He smiled; this was what real family was supposed to be, people who wanted to spend time together on holidays, people who were happy for each other when they had good news to share, people to share their lives with.

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"So did your father say what he wanted to meet with us about?" She looked nervously over to him, although he kept his eyes discreetly focused on the road and not on her delicious legs.

"No, but I don't think it's because he didn't like what you got him for Christmas. Hell, I would have loved a signed first edition of Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise."

"Well, you kind of paid for it, so I feel guilty about that." He took her hand in his, covering the clutch together.

"Hey, what did I say about that? It's not my money, it's our money. We just have to discuss major decisions with each other, I figured that out after you refused to drive the car I got you."

"You didn't get me a car, Logan, you got me a Cayenne so you could have an SUV to drive when you didn't want to take the convertible. I like my Prius, there's nothing wrong with it. I don't need an expensive car when my reliable, economical, environmental car runs perfectly well."

"Okay, I know I'm probably going to regret saying this, but, you're a Huntzberger, or going to be one. People are going to expect you to have a Cayenne, a CLK or at least a driver. I'm not trying to change you, or dictate how you should live, I just thought it would make the transition easier for you if I took care of some things for you." She looked up at him, which made him nervous. He could read her, but this time, he couldn't concentrate fully on what her eyes were really telling him.

"I do know, Logan, and I really appreciate your consideration. I just hate the fact that I have to conform to these stupid, archaic society standards. But, I knew I would have to do that to a degree if I'm going to be your wife, so it's not a big deal. If keeping the car will make it that much easier on us, then, I'll keep it. I make no guarantees about driving it regularly, but I'll at least keep the keys on my key chain." She looked thoughtful at the end of her last statement, which pacified his fears that she was upset about his true reasoning behind the car.

They approached the front door of the Huntzberger house together, with his dawdling pace setting the mood. He reached for her hand before she rang the bell, and pulled her flush against him.

"Promise me we never have a home like this, okay? I'm okay with our kids hating us, but I never want them to hate coming home. Just the door makes me nervous." She smiled up at him, a beautiful look that instantly calmed his erratic heart.

"Pinky swear on Luke's coffee, we will never, ever have a home like this. Although, I intend on playing good cop, so it's a toss up if our kids hate you."

"I'm impossible to hate. Take you for an example; you said you loathed every fiber of my being, but here you are, agreeing to marry me. Just wait until I get you knocked up!" He grinned devilishly, although slightly unsure that his comment was worth sleeping on the couch for.

"Oh, now you know I'm just in it for the money, right?" She teased him right back, and then grinned as she forcefully rang the doorbell, eliciting a moan from him.

"Oh hush, you know it won't be that bad. At least I hope it won't."

To both their surprise, Mitchum answered the door. "Rory, Logan, good to see you. Come in, come in, lots to discuss." He ushered them in, ignoring Logan's cocked head and look of surprise.

"So, I assume both of you are wondering why I wanted to see you, strictly good news, I assure you. The families just wanted to talk about the engagement announcement, and Rory, your grandfather has some news for you."

Logan quickly piped in, unconsciously tightening his grip on Rory's waist. "So why call a meeting, especially at home? And why aren't you at the office?"

Rory, still shaking her head, spotted her grandfather emerging from the library. "Oh, Rory, there you are. Hello, Logan, good to see you again, my boy. How are things?"

Logan gripped his hand, allowing his arm to be clasped in a very society manner.

"Things are fine, Richard, just enjoying the time off."

"Good, that's good. Well, no use dancing around the subject, Rory, I have something very important to share with you. It seems that Trix's lawyer was reviewing some of her charitable contributions that were stipulated in her will, and came across something that I think would be of interest to you. Now that you're engaged, a different part of your trust fund can be accessed, and Trix, the sly devil that she was, also left you the house in London as well as her title." Logan could see Rory's mind race while it processed the information her grandfather had just shared with her. He cut through her silence, answering in her place; "So what does this exactly mean?"

Richard briefly glanced towards Rory, took in her shocked expression, and turned towards Logan. "It means that Rory's going to have to make some decisions about naming a trust manager, overseeing the estate, of course, there's the London society announcement, lots of press probably going to be involved with that, but really, the most important thing is concentrating on settling the financial matters."

"Oh my…grandpa, you're serious? Oh, I really need to sit down and think, or oh god, I just processed the London society bit." She grabbed for his hand, and he was more than insistent on leading her to a chair. Her eyes were wide and she was far too pale for his liking. He rubbed soothing circles on her back as she gripped the arms of the chair, her knuckles white.

"Rory, babe, do you want to go lie down, rest for a bit? You can go upstairs and I'll get more information from your grandpa and the lawyers." He whispered reassuringly in her ear, sliding his hand down to her lower back, gently dipping his thumb underneath her shirt to give more skin to skin contact. She turned her head slightly, searching his eyes for something. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find it, her shoulders releasing some tension and her face softening. "Yeah, laying down, laying down is good." She started to rise from her chair and move towards the door. "Gentlemen," Logan addressed the rest of the crowd in the study, "Rory's going to go lay down for a bit, but I would like to go over the specifics with you, if you don't mind." Heads nodded in agreement as Rory almost dragged him to the door. Once they were outside in the hallway, she laid her head on his shoulder and heaved a big sigh. Feeling how drained of energy she truly was, he put her arms around his neck and scooped her up. He knew she truly needed to lay down because she didn't fight him at all, merely snuggled into the side of his neck while murmuring into his skin.

"What was that, Ace? My ears are a couple of kisses north of you." She heaved another audible sigh, curled a little closer to him and breathed, "I said, oh my God and started to say 'you don't have to carry me', but on second thought, walking seems like a big deal right now."

"Hey, you never let yourself get sick, and you hate me lavishing you with expensive presents, so I never get to take care of you. Plus, thanks to your impersonation of Rockne during physical therapy, I can lift you like this."

She raised her head a little, smiling slightly. "I don't read sports books for just anybody, Huntzberger."

"Oh, I know Ace. And I don't Florence Nightingale just anybody either. Except Finn for that one time in Rio, but that was for my own personal gains." She raised her hand briefly, but let it drop.

"What are you doing?"

"I was trying to hit you, but I'm too exhausted. Remind me I owe you one when I wake up from this nightmare."

He chuckled, shifting her slightly to reach for the doorknob to a darkened room at the top of the stairs. "Will do. I'll even make you a post-it." He laid her gently on the bed, arranging the covers around her.

"Hey Logan?" She looked up at him through sleep-tinged eyes.

"Hey Ace?"

She managed a small smile while closing her lids. "Thank you." She didn't launch into specifics, but he knew that they were capable of expressing a multitude of thoughts with few words. She was thanking him, not only for carrying her, but for wanting to support her through this ordeal, wanting to stand by her side, for standing around to catch her if she fell.

**A/N: So so sorry about the transitions being rather unclear, I forgot that my computer doesn't exactly translate all too well with FF. I will also introduce the characters next time I start a transition with dialogue, although I tried to make their identities obvious with the conversations. Thank you for all the amazing reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello?"

He chuckled, knowing exactly why she was out of breath. "Hey Ace, where did you leave the phone this time?"

"It was under the couch, I forgot that Finn knocked it over when he tried to surf on the cushions during our last movie night."

"Finn was at a movie night?" He attempted to picture his insane best friend voluntarily submitting to the sugar torture known as a Gilmore Girl movie night.

"Yeah, Mom's going through an Annette Funicello phase and needed a Frankie Avalon. Finn, not being one to miss an opportunity to star in his own version of _The Graduate_, volunteered to 'oil her up any time she pleased'". He heard her shudder, knowing that she was mentally blocking out any images of Finn coming near Lorelai.

"So how was the 'Beach Blanket Bingo'?"

"Not entirely awful, I'm just lucky my mom is one of those women who were born knowing how to flirt, I think by the end of the night, she was hitting on Finn more than anything else. How's Hong Kong?"

"Busy, formal, quiet. It's bizarre how little sound fifteen million people make." She made a sympathetic noise.

"Are you eating really good Chinese food? Because once you get back to London or our home, China Palace is just not going to cut it."

"You know, over here, it's just called food, Ace. But yes, I am, and the Szechuan chicken from today's lunch definitely puts New Haven's best Chinese restaurant to shame, let me tell you."

Her voice sounded confused; "But you don't even like Szechuan chicken, you only tolerate it in our fridge because I consider it almost as necessary as marshmallows."

"Ah yes, but you like Szechuan chicken, and since you've forced me to endure many months of it crowding my garlic shrimp, I may or may not have confused the takeout boxes a few times and eaten it." He smiled at their banter, making his large, impersonal hotel suite feel a little like home.

"You jerk! You kept blaming Finn for eating all of my chicken every time I came home and it was gone! I feel bad now for yelling at him, I'm going to owe him now. See what trouble you cause?" Her tone was too playful to be serious, and he was happy to give it right back to her.

"If Finn wants repayment in a physical form, remind him that I still have a videotape that could be conveniently 'found' if he propositions you."

"Ooh, what's on the tape and where is it?"

"Now it really wouldn't be fair if I told you, would it?" He purposely toyed with her, baiting her to get a reaction that he missed being able to see in person.

"Mean! If you were here, I would so make you at least think about sleeping on the couch!"

"Have you gotten soft in your punishments on me, Ace? I would just have to think about sleeping on the couch, which means that you couldn't actually kick me out of our bed?"

"You know, you're so lucky there's a lot of distance between us right now, mister. Otherwise, we're talking Bonaduce."

He groaned at her reference. "I thought we decided that VH1 wasn't an appropriate channel for you and Paris to watch together? What happened to CSPAN?"

"Umm, ever since Paris told Doyle Tucker Carlson's bow tie really, and I quote, 'revved her engine', Doyle's been having a hard time remembering to put pants on in their apartment, but he never forgets his bow tie. Ugh. After the first time I walked in on them, I couldn't look my grandpa in the eye, with visions of grandma telling him the same thing."

"Oh my god, Ace, was that necessary to share your pain with me? I was very, happily, might I add, oblivious to our own Paris' sexcapades."

"What's mine is yours, baby. Oh, did I tell you? My grandmother somehow managed to railroad the construction of my building at Yale, so the dedication will be in a few weeks, woohoo!" Her voice resonated with sarcasm, which Logan found absolutely adorable and hysterical.

"Oh, you mean the Lorelai Leigh Gilmore Astronomy building? However will you sit for a portrait in time?" He mocked her, waiting for her response.

"Did you and Mom like secretly convene somewhere to discuss all the humiliating aspects of having a building named after me at Yale while I still go there? 'Cause I almost get the feeling that you two divided up the mocking responsibilities equally."

"Scout's honor, Lorelai and I have never discussed it, but now that you mention it, I'm sure we could probably devote at least a dinner's worth of conversation to it. What do you say?"

"I say once again, be happy that you're so far away, because lately Finn has been the recipient of my pillow throwing and he whines like a little girl over barely a bruise."

"Ace, how can I be happy when I'm the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy in this country? I seriously should have made you skip school and come with me, they would love you here."

"Yeah, only because I'm quiet and respectful, Mr. Best-Friends-With-Alcoholic-Finn."

"No, they would love you because I've spent most of my morning learning how to download picture software onto the new phone I got, and every single photo I have is of you. Add in the fact that I claimed you were proficient in Mandarin and chop sticks, and you've just about merited yourself a statue."

"I miss you. When are you going to be back in London? Or better yet, back home with me?"

"Ace, I thought we had this settled? You said you were going to fly out on the 10th so you could meet with your gran's lawyers and be here for Valentine's Day?"

"I know", she whined, "But I miss you and I want to see you. Pretty please?"

He laughed again. She had sunk to a new low, sounding too much like Lorelai, begging him like a little girl. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you. If you are a good girl, stop punching Finn and actually leave our apartment past 9 PM for a destination other than the library, I promise to try and attend your building dedication. I think I can swing it if I rearrange some meetings."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, "don't do me any favors. You just want to be here because you don't want to miss a primo mocking opportunity with Mom. I wouldn't put it past you to supply her with Milk Duds even after I search her purse."

"Aw, Ace, how can you have so little faith in me, your fiancé, the love of your life, the man who completes you?"

"Because he's too far away. I'm sorry, mister, my faith requires a constant presence, or at least the idea of a constant presence, which is why we pray to Juan Valdez, easily accessible and oh so tasty."

"I could interject with a dirty right there, but I'm almost too tired. I miss you, I love you, I can't wait to see you. So can I call you tomorrow or will I be interrupting a session with your Coffee God?"

"Oh, silly Logan, you know I reserve that title only for you. Okay, go get some rest, you sound exhausted. I love you, I'm very proud of you and I can't wait to see you."

He flopped on the bed facedown, using the lush comforter to stifle his tired moan. His hands felt the emptiness of the bed, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to roll over and run into Rory's knee, or elbow or any part of her. He wasn't expecting being away from her to be so hard, but it was something he couldn't shake. He woke up, went about his day, and crawled into bed every night feeling a little hollow, no matter how many times he talked to her, or looked at pictures of them. He sighed, and called the person he never thought he would reach out to for advice.

"Mitchum Huntzberger."

"Hi Dad, it's Logan."

"Logan, I thought we already discussed the Hong Kong business for today? Isn't it late over there?"

"Mitchum, I really need to talk to my dad right now, not my boss."

"Okay, well, I can try." Mitchum's tone went soft, something Logan had never heard it do before. He was a little uneasy, but he needed to talk to someone about this before his chest caved in.

"Does it get any easier?"

"What? The business? Logan, you're doing a great job over in London, and the China merger is quite impressive, especially for the new direction you're taking your paper in. Don't get depressed if one or two days seem a little harder, you love this, don't deny it, some days just need to pass."

"No, Dad, I mean, does it get any easier being away from home?"

Mitchum faltered a bit before he answered the question, his voice sounding heavy.

"I can't really tell you that. Me, I've always loved traveling, being in the middle of things, but I never really felt like I had a home to come back to. When you and your sister were younger, I would feel guilty about missing so much, but it wasn't enough to put me back on a plane. It's not like I can counsel you on this; I would rather be where the action is than sitting at home, directing things from an armchair. But, I'm not you, I don't have the kind of life you've cultivated or the kind of people you love."

Logan sighed audibly, feeling a little defeated. "I just wish that it didn't have to hurt so much." He was a little surprised at himself, showing so much vulnerability to his father. He felt like this phone call represented a huge hallmark in his previously icy relationship with his father; they were discussing important things, and he had high hopes that by opening up and trusting his father, Mitchum would treat him in kind.

"You know, you could always ask her to come with you. It's not like she needs to finish Yale."

"No!" Logan replied instantly, vehemently. "I am not asking her to not finish Yale just because I'm too immature to be away from her for so long. I couldn't do that to her, take away something she's worked so hard for. I'm supposed to support her, not crush her."

"She might not say yes, you know."

There was a trace of doubt in the back of Logan's mind, but his tongue quickly silenced it. "No, you and I both know she would do it if I asked her to. You know just as well as I do that she would willingly sacrifice herself just for me, and that's something I can't do to her. I love her and part of loving her is realizing that she needs some things for herself. I'm not going to be selfish and ask her quit Yale just so she can camp out in my hotel room while I'm in meetings."

"Okay, then I'm just going to have to speculate. You've got less than four months with her at Yale, and then she can move to London with you. I was going to tell you next time I saw you, but now's as good as any. After your year in London, I'm going to give you the choice of where you want to go. You don't have to choose anything permanently, but I would hope that you would want to move back, either to Hartford, New York, or Boston, just for your mother's sake."

"Well, I have to take Rory into account, it's not my choice, it's our choice."

"I know, and I respect that. Has she said anything to you about where she's thinking about interviewing after graduation?"

"She's mentioned it a couple of times, but more in relation to me. I'm not sure what she will want to do."

"Well, it's not like she needs to work. Plus, she could always be your assistant or something, that way she would be around for you."

"Dad! She will never be an assistant, mine or anybody else's. She's going to be whatever she wants to do, if it's being an overseas correspondent, an editor, whatever. She had a hard enough time coming back to Yale after she took that time off, and dammit, she's going to succeed."

"Well, then, if you feel so strongly about it, why don't you offer her a position at whatever paper you choose?"

"So everybody can think that she married me just to get ahead? I can't do that, Dad. I can't destroy her dreams, I'd rather her be happy than me."

"Bee, there's a solution here, one that we can find, but you're going to have to consider all sides. It's really amazing to see you act so selflessly for once in your life, you're a much better person than I am. You're going to be a much better husband, too. Now, it's late, so try to get some sleep for tomorrow's board meeting. I expect a full report."

"Thanks Mitchum, I really appreciate your time. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Logan, it's Dad. Save Mitchum for the office, okay, son?"

Surprisingly, his conversation with Mitchum alleviated his fears for the most part, but there was still a shred of doubt lingering in his mind. He couldn't ask Rory to give up her dreams for him; he didn't know if he could even find the words to pose that particular question. He was well aware that her decision to accept his proposal meant major life changes for her, a transition to a different world, but his life would generally stay the same. To him, it seemed like too big a sacrifice for her, which scared him. He needed to be sure that she really wanted this, but he didn't know how to go about retrieving his answer. He shook his head, vowing to plan a spectacular Valentine's for her, hoping to serve the dual purpose of quieting his own thoughts.

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He could hear her stomping her way to his door, angrily jabbing her key into the lock and twisting savagely. Wanting to head off a rant to end all rants, he snatched the freshly brewed pot of coffee and a mug and met her at the door.

"Leave the pot!" Her eyes were closed as her hands greedily grabbed for the handle.

"And take the cannoli?"

"Ohh, a Sofia death scene would be so awesome right now! Maybe like repeated six or seven times, until the pain in my head subsides."

"So you went to the mattresses with Gran's lawyers, huh?"

"You in a Pacino mood or something here, buddy? I am more than willing to arrange for a horse's head to appear in our bed tomorrow, if you plan on continuing your cutesy reference game."

"Says the girl who cannot complete a thought without at least one inane and usually completely obscure pop culture reference?"

"Logan. No. Mood. Gran. Awful. Stupid London." He almost grinned at the point they had reached in their relationship to effectively communicate in monosyllabic thoughts.

"So I take it the lawyers haven't shuffled around your favorite people list?"

"Ugh. No. I now hold the entirety of the law profession in disdain, including Colin. If I have to hear another stupid throat clearing or uncomfortable cough followed by the squeak of a pen twist, BTK's gonna look like a fairy tale." He rubbed her back soothingly as she gulped down mouthful after mouthful of coffee.

"What exactly about them do you hate?"

"Well, here I thought I would love lawyers, find in them kindred spirits in my pro-con list decision making skills, naively assuming that their cut and dry sense of humor would have some sort of disciplined appeal to me, but no! That's it, I'm changing my name, I never want to initial another piece of paper again in my life." He continued his languid strokes, pausing to gently knead the lowest part of her back.

"It was, oh Miss Gilmore this, and but Miss Gilmore, that's not proper, gah! It's official, this is worse than the building dedication. I want to climb into bed and bury myself under the pillows." She humphed resignedly, her small shoulders tight with a day's worth of pent-up frustration. He shifted his hands up towards her neck, threading his fingers through her tightly coiled hair, releasing the brunette waves. Twisting a strand around his finger, he gently dragged his fingertips across her scalp, feeling her settle back into him, allowing her muscles some relaxation. He loved moments like these the most, where she allowed her vulnerability to peek through and she let him know how safe she felt in his arms. He shifted his body behind her so that they were laying down, his hands still tangled in her hair. Her body seemed to melt into his chest, her head automatically finding its place by his heart. Her breathing slowly evened out, his eyes watching the rhythmic motion of her rising and falling chest. He knew the key to his happiness resided in her, and shaping his mind around that concept was no longer a foreign sensation to him. The second she said she was unhappy with anything, anything at all, he would give it up in a heartbeat so she could find her own way. He finally understood what it meant to put someone else before himself, and lying on his couch, slowly falling asleep, he never felt more grown up in his life.

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"Okay, so that's the last of everything, right? All the flowers, the stool, the guitar, it's all here, yes?"

One of the many jump suited men nodded towards Logan as they shuffled out the door.

"I really appreciate this, thank you so much. I hope she likes it." He muttered the last part to himself, but the final workman caught it on his way out of the flat. He turned to face Logan and smiled. "She will, so I would stop looking so terrified if I were you", he remarked calmingly, shaking his head as he exited. Logan glanced at his watch, checking to make sure he was still on schedule. One of the many habits of Rory, random punctuality, had benefited him enormously since they had gotten together, but today he felt constrained by the expensive timepiece adorning his wrist. Physically preventing himself from wringing his hands together, he began to absentmindedly walk the pattern of the marbled floor. He ran down the list in his head, mentally adding a check to everything already accomplished. All there was left to do was wait impatiently for the mean-spirited hands of the clock to inch their way towards seven o'clock. A swift knock on the door ended Logan's solo reverie and brought him to the task at hand. Turning the knob, he happily greeted the man standing in his foyer.

"I'm assuming you're Logan? Where would you like me?"

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He could hear her exhausted sigh the minute she stepped off the elevator, her footsteps dragging towards the apartment door. As she turned in and saw him, she smirked slightly; "Armani today? Who did you have to impress?" she said, commenting on his expertly tailored attire.

"Just you, baby."

"Impress me? You do that every day. Not that I don't like it when you get all pretty for me." She kissed his cheek and moved towards a nook to drop her bag.

"Allow me to rephrase then, I am woo-ing you. Now come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to his makeshift stage.

"Wow."

He laughed, shaking his head at her. "Wow? That's it, Ace? You wound me. Seriously, wow? Nothing else to add?"

"There are no words. Oh wait, I thought of one, wow." She sighed, contently, he thought, and gently laid her fork next to her empty plate.

"So all this and only one word?"

"You got Paul McCartney to sing, no, serenade me with one of my favorite Beatles songs, nice touch, by the way, then you cook for me, all in all making this the most romantic and special day of my life, and you want a sonnet? Give me a few years to attempt to make this up to you, and maybe, just maybe, I might form a complete, coherent sentence for you."

"Who said the most romantic and special day of your life was over? There's still a present or two with your name on it."

She looked absolutely floored, her blue eyes deep with wonder and surprise.

"You got me a present, too? Logan, seriously, that wasn't necessary. I mean, you planned all this, just for me, you know what, I don't even want anything else. I just want you." She lifted her hands in slight protest, watching as he brought two wrapped boxes out from underneath the table. He laid them in front of her, nudging the largest one towards her.

"Go ahead, Ace, what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't absolutely spoil you rotten, on this, the day of lovers?"

"Not the day of your daughter's wedding?" He chuckled at her reference.

"No, Francis Ford Coppola, jeez, just open them, will you? You make a guy nervous here."

She slowly untied the white ribbon from the sky-blue box, gracefully discarding the lid. Nestled in the white tissue paper lay a silver frame with a picture of the two of them at some black tie event or another, but it was different from every other picture she had ever seen of them. A beautiful shot from behind, she was leaning into him, crushing her ball gown against his tuxedo, her head cocked lazily towards him. His arms encircled her waist, his lips pressing against her temple, it was almost difficult to distinguish where one stopped and the other began. At the bottom of the frame, on Honor's suggestion, he had "I love you" engraved in simple script, calligraphied from his own handwriting. He watched as she traced her finger over the picture, enamored with the inscription. He found out all he needed to know from a quick glance at her eyes, awash with such a deep feeling of love, he felt his own heart skip a few beats.

"Isn't this your handwriting?"

Pleased that she recognized it, he nodded, asking her, "How did you know?"

"Come on, Huntzberger, it took me forever to learn how to decipher your chicken scratch. What, Andover didn't have a handwriting course too?"

"Nope, Viennese Waltz and How to be a Cad, but no penmanship. Besides, a distinctive style makes it much harder for the secretaries to forge your signature, duh."

"Aha! You admit it! I knew there was no way you were just a natural in the lady department. Come on, cough it up, I want to see the manual you've been consulting for all these years on how to be a cad, and I'm going to burn it and dance gleefully on the ashes."

"Ah ah ah, not so fast, you still have one more present to open, then, I swear on Chapter 27: How to escape a shot-gun toting father or butler…or boyfriend, you can foxtrot to your heart's desire over the demise of my playboy youth."

She reached for the smaller of the two packages, yet another recognizable blue with a white ribbon. She frowned confusingly, plucking a black leather cord with three letter blocks on it from the box.

"Um, Logan, this looks a little bit too big for me, don't you think?"

"Silly Rory, it's not for you, Ace, it's for me. See?" He flicked his wrist and maneuvered the blocks so that they faced her, spelling out 'ACE'.

"You mean you gave me a box, from Tiffany's, no less, with jewelry for you? Did you miss the memo or something on how Valentine's works? I mean, I thought you had grasped the concept quite well", she said, shaking her wrist with the tennis bracelet he had given her the previous February, "but apparently not."

"No, no, no, you, the woman who very nearly kicked me out of our bed for a week because I missed an incredibly obtuse and obscure Russian lit bit, missed the oh-so obvious and slightly pathetic pop culture reference of this one?"

"No, Scripps, spell it out for me, literally."

He took her hand, almost embarrassed that he had to admit to this highly emasculating gesture. "Okay, so remember the Emmys when Brad and Jen were America's golden couple, the pride and joy of the paparazzi and basically the hope for all mankind?"

"Yes, that was the year Mom decided to hold her own so that she could pretend to be Susan Lucci, although she totally mixed genres and therefore lost points."

"Right, so what did Brad have around his neck that Jennifer made for him?"

"A necklace…aw, you had so little faith in my craft abilities that you made your own sentimental keepsake and then gave it to me? You know me so well, I love you. So put it on, I want to see how it looks."

He unclasped the necklace and slipped it on, arranging it underneath his tie.

"See, this was my way of being cutesy without Colin and Finn finding out, so if you tell them, I will make it go away."

"Aw, I love my neurotic, masculinity obsessed husband. Can you grunt out what you want for dinner tomorrow night, 'cause then, well, I'll just swoon."

"Really, this is the thanks I get for tonight? You know how to make a guy feel loved."

"Oh, hush you; I have a present for you too. I must say, it is tough trying to get a present for a man who already has everything, as well as a black card that is the procurer of everything."

"Oh yeah, so what did you come up with, Miss soon to be graduate of the finest university of the world?"

"Something you never knew how much you missed it until it was gone."

With that, she pulled out her own box, slid it towards him, and sat back to watch the show. He pulled off the wrapping paper to reveal a kit labeled "Home Away From Home": Rory had assembled bits and pieces from their lives to cobble together something he could always take with him. There was a little suit of armor and a travel pool table with magnetic balls and sticks, a fifth of the scotch he kept a large supply of at their apartment in New Haven, a small pillow that he knew was sprayed with a little bit of her perfume, a faded Yale tee shirt, much like the one she loved to steal to sleep in, and a miniature jail cell with Colin and Finn's faces plastered on the dolls inside. He was touched to see how much thought she had put into her gift, and how it was perfect; she knew exactly what he wanted more than anything. He loved that she understood him, anticipated things he never would have even thought about for himself, but somehow she knew. All he could do was pull her towards him and kiss her.

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He could feel her shift slightly against his body, and instantly, he was awake. He knew that when she was lost in thought and having trouble sleeping, she twisted and turned, as if settling into a groove in their bed would calm her mind. He brought his hand up to gently stroke her hair.

"What's on your mind, Ace?"

"Oh, Logan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep. I'm really sleepy…" She trailed off, ending her sentence with an exaggerated yawn.

"Well, Ace, with that performance, I think you stole the Razzie from Halle Berry. Now, what's on your mind?"

She rolled over so that their faces were level, her bright eyes standing out in the semi-darkness of the bedroom. She bit her lip before speaking, a sign that she was nervous.

"Do you ever have doubts about this? Like we're rushing it, or we're too young, that we should wait until we're older?"

"Truthfully, yes, I have had my doubts. I actually called Finn one morning in a blind panic about it, but he asked me a question that settled it for me."

"Finn, providing you with advice, this ought to be good."

"Finn is allowed his sagacious moments, although they are few and far between. He asked me who I saw myself waking up next to every morning."

"So what did you say?"

"I told him I liked remembering waking up with you sprawled out all over me, thus preventing any movement from me unless it is to get you coffee."

"Ask me." He was puzzled as to what question she was hinting at from him.

"Ask you what? I thought I was off the hook with the asking of the important questions since I basically set this whole thing in motion with one of them?"

"Ask me who I see myself waking up next to every morning."

"I'm going to go out on a limb and call this redundant, but okay, Ace, who do you see yourself waking up next to every morning?"

"I see myself making eye contact with you over the top of our son's head, since he somehow managed to worm his way between us during the thunderstorm that scared him. I see myself waking up when you slip into bed after a late business meeting, even though you try not to disturb me, you should know that I can't sleep very well unless you're next to me. I see myself kicking my adorable lump of a husband to make some coffee since he has rightfully earned his nickname of the Coffee God. That's who I see myself waking up to." He was truly amazed by her admission, although it didn't take much for her to surprise him. The simple, pure goodness that radiated from her, well, he felt incredibly blessed to have her light shine on him, even if for the briefest of moments.

"So does that clear up your doubts?" He gently nudged her, tweaking her nose with a light fingertip touch.

"It's always been you, Logan, the doubts were never about that. Do you think we're too young? I mean, should we wait until we're older, have more of a plan, establish our careers, something like that?"

"Rory, yes, I called you Rory because I want to be serious for a moment here, what I have learned in my experience with following 'plans' is that they rarely lead where I really want to go. Deviation is what makes everything worth it, Ror. Think about it. Was I part of your plan? Were you part of mine? Will getting married at a younger age mean that neither of us will achieve what we want, or that it will limit us in some way? With you, I know I can achieve more than I ever thought possible, even with my 'plan'. Tell me something; what was the jump with me?"

"One of the best moments of my life."

"Was it planned out? Carefully plotted along your course?"

"Okay, I get it. The best things happen when spontaneity and impulsiveness rule our heads, enabling us to lead with our hearts."

"Oh, you so totally were cheating on me with a Hallmark writer, but he probably got fired for such a sappy line."

"Who ever said it was a he? Goodnight Logan, I love you, forever and for always." She burrowed deeper into her pillow, maneuvered her way farther into Logan's embrace and sighed happily. He, however, was fully awake, musing on the recent realizations their conversation had brought to mind.

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He strolled into his living room in time to catch a one-sided conversation between Rory and someone, most likely Lorelai, given the amount of gesturing and rapid conversational pace.

"So then, he pulls me out of the corner and towards this stage where Paul McCartney was just sitting there, like he's used to hanging out in people's living rooms…yes, Mom, I know, nobody puts Baby in the corner….no, you can't find a Road House reference to use there…Mom, my story, okay? Now can I finish telling it? Yes, he got Paul to sing 'Maybe I'm Amazed', no, I don't find Guns and Roses particularly romantic, I don't care if it was post-op for Axel, anyone who opens with 'Welcome to the Jungle' is not meant for Valentine's, yes, I agree with you, they would work at Ozzfest, no, stop doing your impersonation, no, I can't be Kelly, Logan won't let me speak in a British accent, he says it's embarrassing to the entire island, what, okay, love you and call you later after I'm done with Logan, ew Mom! Dirty! Okay, bye!" She slumped against the cushions, tossing her phone besides her.

"What are you doing, Ace?" She cocked her head to look at him, lazily peering out the side of one eye.

"Trying to decide if you are worth all the sexual innuendos my mother managed to throw into our arguably too-long conversation, and so far, bucko, it's not looking too good."

He smiled, then headed towards the arm of the couch, perching near where her feet lay. "How about I throw in a yacht? Does that sweeten the pot for you?"

"Well, Bob, I'd have to say, toss in a washer-dryer combo and you've got yourself a deal."

He gracefully landed besides her on the couch, simultaneously pulling her closer to him. "Consider those household appliances yours, darling."


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a rough day, but he was determined to shove away his foul sentiments. In the short walk from the office doors to the waiting car, he could feel the stagnant air start to pool around him as the thunderclouds rolled in. There was something ominous about the next few hours, and it only heightened his anxiety for Rory's flight that was supposed to be landing soon. He stalked into his building, almost blindsiding Mr. Maxwell-Hearst.

"Logan, son, slow down. You might damage a corner and I would hate to see my only ally on the tenant board sent out to the gutters!" The older man greeted him jovially, taking note of Logan's harried expression.

"Robert, my apologies, I don't know where my head is today."

"Isn't your lovely wife arriving today? I thought I overheard Armand sending a driver to Heathrow."

Logan brightened slightly at the mention of Rory, but it wasn't enough to fully lift his spirits. "Yes, I'm expecting her tonight…do you think I have anything to worry about? It just feels like one of those days."

Robert nodded in understanding, but the playful glint in his eye spoke otherwise. "Other than some complaints about Lufthansa's abysmal taste in Champagne, I think your worries just might be a byproduct of stress and distance."

Logan paused to consider his words. He still felt an irrational tug in his stomach, but at least his mind was logically checking off reasons. He felt Robert's hands clap onto his shoulders, drawing his gaze up towards the kind man's stately face.

"It sounds like you're in need of a good night's sleep in a crowded bed." Both men smiled wryly at the suggestion.

"Crowded, you're correct about that. No matter how large the bed, Rory always manages to commander almost all of it. I'm lucky she considers me a living pillow, otherwise I would probably be relegated to the floor with the rest of the blankets."

Robert's lips curled up slightly, indicating his amusement. With a knowing wink to Logan, he tipped his hat to the doorman and strolled out into the fog.

Logan sighed heavily as he slumped against the side of the elevator, not fully comprehending this foreign uneasiness. He was a Huntzberger; worry was an unknown concept to him, Huntzbergers were too busy to worry, that was for other people, underlings, secretaries, competitors. Still, he exited the elevator unsure of what exactly awaited him on the other side of the heavy oak door.

He exhaled exhaustedly as he sat down at his desk, which mirrored the one at the office, only more cluttered and unorganized, if that was possible. The windows shone with raindrops, which he felt adequately suited his mood. He shuffled tiredly to the kitchen, digging out a prepared meal Marika had taken to leaving for him, at Rory's suggestion. He sat pondering the day on the couch, absentmindedly picking at the chicken on his plate. He heard her key turn in the lock again, but he was too preoccupied to twist his head in acknowledgement. "Hey stranger", she said as she dropped her luggage at the door and walked to join him on the couch. "How was your day?" she questioned, brushing some errant blonde strands off his forehead. He leaned into her caress, feeling some release from her touch. She drew her hand down to the base of his neck, lightly scratching his hairline and dipping a finger or two below his loosened tie and collar.

"Logan, what's wrong? You haven't even said a word to me, and while I'm quite capable of carrying on a conversation by myself, a response or two would delay the inevitable transport to Bellevue." She shifted so her shoulders were square to his body, almost as if to tell him without words that he had her undivided attention. "Okay, Marcel Marceau, speak!"

He barely lifted his head to look at her: "It's nothing, I'm just tired, long day, that's it." His eyes finally took in her appearance; her hair looked different, like an artist had delicately woven flecks of gold into her coffee tresses. This little change irked him, and he didn't know why. With the constant motion surrounding him, Rory was the only still, stable, grounding force in his life and he wanted her to stay the same. "What did you do to your hair?" It came out much harsher than he intended, but he was too tired to rescind his tone. Her eyes narrowed slightly at his pitch, but she shrugged it off and swept her hair back with both hands. He reacted to the loss of her warmth and it sent him over the edge. "What did you do to your hair, Rory?" The repeated phrase hung stiffly in the air, resonating with his anger.

"I just got it cut and they added some highlights, it's not a big deal, why, don't you like it?"

"Why did you cut it? It looked fine to me! God, can't something just stay the same around here?"

She got up, moving towards the kitchen, removing herself from him and putting on a pot of coffee. "I got it cut for you, I thought you would like it if I made an extra effort since I haven't seen you for a while, okay? Next time I get it cut, I'll tell you first, okay? Can you please calm down a little babe?"

"Yeah, it would be nice if my wife would keep me informed of what's going on, got anything else you'd like to share with the class?" He turned so that he was standing, pacing the edging of the rug.

"Well, the housekeeper switched from regular Pine-sol to extra-strength, there, you feel informed now?"

He watched as she irritably grabbed a mug out of the cabinet. He couldn't grasp why he was lashing out at her, but he was powerless to control his words. "I'm not asking for much, here, Rory. God, just keep me filled in! I'm supposed to know what's going on, I know every detail about the paper at every moment!" He furiously kicked a leg of their coffee table, having lost all control of himself.

"Logan", her voice dangerous and low. "Whatever or whomever got you into this mood, do not take it out on me. I am not your punching bag, in no proposal or wedding vow does it have that clause. I am also not your paper, you can't micromanage everything and expect me jump before you even think 'how high'. I get that you're tired and stressed, and yes, you feel left out of life at home, but I sure as hell didn't fly across the Atlantic to get screamed at. So go to bed or take a shower, but if you actually have a reason to be upset with me, let's have it out here and now so it's over and won't ruin the rest of my time."

"Yes, of course, your time shouldn't be jeopardized, I mean, all the sacrifices you made, missing two whole classes!" he sneered, knowing it was a very low blow. By this point, he had extracted himself from the situation, observing his actions as an outsider. His stance was defensive, his posture defeated. His hair was unusually disheveled and his eyes were red-rimmed and dropping with a lack of sleep. Rory remained neutrally behind the counter, her hands anchored on the marble countertops. Her shoulders hunched slightly, he knew it was caused by his careless comments. Her eyes shone with anger mixed with utter confusion, her mouth poised to attempt to disarm him. He threw his hands up at the exact moment a gigantic thunderclap roared, instantly thrusting them into darkness. In the absence of light, he relaxed his muscles and instantly felt horrified by his actions and words. In the seconds it took for his eyes to adjust to the room, he saw glimpses of Rory cautiously moving towards him, flashes thrown off by the reflection of the lightening on her jewelry. "Logan?" she tentatively called, as if trying to weigh whether her fear or her anger drove her. She finally reached him and pulled him towards her. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her soft hair. As her hands started soothingly stroking his back, he melted into her embrace, happy that she supported him. "I'm sorry, Ace, so so sorry. I'm sorry, babe," he murmured into her skin, his eyes closed and his body pressed close to her. "I know, I know, let's worry about that later, how about you light a fire in the bedroom and I'll meet you in there with some candles in about ten?" She gently removed his hands as she stepped back towards the kitchen and redirected him towards their room.

As they settled in, he couldn't stop the constant apologies from flowing from his lips. "Ace, I am so sorry, I didn't mean anything I said, I've just been stressed and well, I occasionally hate being here, away from you and everybody. I just hate fighting with you, but the hair thing was a trigger and it set me off and I don't mean to take it out on you, but you'll listen and I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Doing a fine job of it, too, almost as if you were a real Gilmore." He realized she didn't seem too upset; her mouth was arranged in a tiny, upturned quarter-smile. "Logan, people fight. That a reality that we're going to have to face. I know that you've been working yourself sick, so next time you want to pick a nonsense argument with me, just give me a head's up, okay? You stole a yacht with me last time I was ridiculously upset so I think I can begrudge you some petty remarks. So, fight over?"

"Seriously, Ace, I am so sorry. I'm going to feel guilty and awful for a long time, and you can't stop me."

"If you buy me something expensive, so help you God, I will go Tarantino on your ass, and the result will not be attractive, and I can't marry an ugly man, what about giving my parents pretty grandchildren?"

"You think your parents will care, please, my mother would not be above hiring a fake family if we weren't up to her impossibly high standards, and yes, I realize I just referenced a storyline from Full House, but it's a very real possibility with Shira."

"Oh, what would an ugly Huntzberger do? Actually attend class and do some work instead of flirting their way through life?"

"Hey, I attended class! I attended lots of class, it was mostly because of a pretty girl or I mistakenly stumbled into it looking for someone's room or something."

"Doyle always said that you only wrote for the paper when you were too sick to do anything else!"

"And yet, I do believe most of last year, I consistently had pieces published, now didn't I?"

"As the editor, it was my duty to motivate our talented yet unproductive writers."

"Aha, so you admit that I'm talented?"

"Oh man, your ego does not need this stroking! Yes, you are ridiculously talented, you're a great boss and you're very, very pretty. Now, why don't you call the building mechanic to fix the circuit breaker so we don't have to sit in the dark, how about, my beautiful, brainy Huntz?"

"But the dark is so romantic, don't you think?"

"Go, be a man! Be my Luke and fix things!"

"Okay, I'll make you a deal: if you allow me to make our fight up to you and you promise never to reference your mother's relationship in terms of our relationship, I will call the mechanic to come fix the circuit breaker."

"You drive a hard bargain, but agreed. Now I want popcorn and Orville Redenbacher did not mean for his kernels to be roasted over open flames, nor did the makers of Poptarts, so get the lead out, rich boy."

"What on earth could you want Poptarts for?"

"We are going to have a new tradition: we are going to sit and watch the thunderstorms and talk. You are going to sit and talk about your stress or your job or your socks, I really don't care, but you are going to talk. And I, I am going to listen and eat popcorn. And then, when you have Limbaugh'd yourself out, we will go to bed and sleep in because you need a day off, and do not fight me, Jake LaMotta, because you will not win. I am the Ali to your Frazier, the Chaplin to your Keystone Kops."

"Are you feeling okay? You just made a sports reference, a correct one at that."

"You don't know everything about me, Huntzberger, a girl's gotta do something to keep the mystery alive here buddy." She put her hands on his shoulders, leaned in to kiss him hard and spun him around towards the door. "Be a man!" he heard her shout as he headed out.

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When he opened the door again, perspiring from the long hike from the basement, he found her sprawled out on the chaise lounge, only her legs covered by the blanket. He reached down to brush the hair off her face, pausing to smooth out a small worry wrinkle on her forehead. She moaned a little, shifting towards his touch, but not opening her eyes. He moved to sit on the edge of the cushion, careful not to disturb her. The firelight threw shadows on the wall, reminding him a little of Peter Pan. He half-expected to open his sock drawer and find Tinkerbell hiding in between the folded wool. After his last few crazy weeks, he was willing to accept any possibilities. Until his recent efforts in London, people had always likened his relationship with Rory to Peter Pan and Wendy; his merry band of lost boys crowding around her for the stability she offered, the practicality and seriousness that radiated off her. He guessed that when she abandoned her shell, she had radically altered most people's opinions of her, like his father. He wondered if he was still a lost boy: he had responsibility, a solid foundation of a life and was more than willing to accept more. Was Rory still Wendy? He wasn't sure; the only thing he knew was how much they grew, both together and separately. Their relationship had grown along with them, although it had taken a second time around for them to figure that out. Their first time together wasn't meant to last; it was too fragile and cracked to be sustainable for long term. They were both scared; she was terrified of failure and he avoided his feelings. They had the makings of a true relationship, but it wouldn't have been enough to lead them to present day. Although their break-up was awful and heart-breaking, it was a necessary evil. They both had come to depend upon each other, and ripping that cruelly out from under them forced both of them to grow. She found herself again, coming back to Yale, reconciling with her mother, finding her own two feet again. He liked to think that it was partly due to his influence that she rediscovered her backbone, but he didn't want to take undue credit. He knew she was the reason why he had left the LDB New Year's Bash early, finding a lonely walk better company than the absolutely soporific blonde Finn had almost handcuffed him to. He knew she was the reason the other girls were horrible experiences; with Rory, he grew accustomed to meaningful sex. With the bridesmaids, he got a taste of his own playboy medicine: Walker had simply rolled over, got dressed and walked out; thanking him for a decent lay. He lay there alone in the empty bed and had tucked a pillow in his arms where Rory was supposed to be.

_If he concentrated hard enough with his eyes closed, he could almost smell Rory's hair, feel the weight of her body on his, revel in the softness and the heat. It was at that moment that he allowed himself to grieve, to cry: to mourn the loss of the goodness that was her in his life, how easily their relationship was broken, how he let his fear control him again, something that hadn't happened since he was much younger. He let the tears drop onto the pillow he clutched, muffling his cries in an effort not to disturb the comforting silence of the room. He was struck with the irony of how he found the quiet so gentle and peaceful: it was his and Rory's combined silence that ruined their relationship. Her resignation to his father's petty and offhand remarks, his inability to confess to her that he loved her, loved her more than anything else in his life._

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"Hey, Ace, you awake?" He nudged her slightly, trying to get her to return to the land of the living. She turned to face him, barely cracking an eyelid. "What time is it?"

He bit his lip, stretching the truth a little. "Around 11."

She merely forced open her eyelid more, raising an eyebrow. "In the morning? It's still dark outside."

He sighed, forgetting that she remained cogent to some degree even while asleep. "Okay, it's 11 pm in New Haven. Are you awake?"

"You better be on fire or dying or have coffee. So if you're on fire, can you roll over and smother yourself with a pillow? Good night." She huffed, then turned over and buried her face determinedly into the linens.

"Wake up, okay? I'm scared."

Not even bothering to acknowledge his admission with any physical movement, she sleepily muttered, "Aw, does somebody need me to check under the bed for monsters?"

"You know, you take such perverse pleasure in emasculating me."

"And you woke me up", she retorted, "Early, might I add, when we're supposed to be sleeping in because you have the day off."

"Okay, okay, I'll make you coffee if you open yours eyes and talk to me."

She sighed, which was a sure sign to him that he had won their little battle. "Fine, but it better be damn good coffee, Huntzberger."

He got up and padded into the kitchen, readjusting the coffeemaker's automatic setting. Taking a seat at the counter, he felt her hands reassuringly scratch the back of his head. He grabbed her free hand and kissed the underside of her wrist. He thought it was the most intimate gesture because he loved to feel the faint murmur of her pulse underneath his lips. It wasn't as sexually charged as say, kissing her neck, but it was a quiet demonstration of their trust and love of each other. The cool expanse of her wrist, dotted by her multicolored veins, reminded him of their future. The lines of red and blue criss-crossed, looking like a map of their past, present and the unknown. When he kissed her there, he could imagine a tiny hand clutching his finger, tickled by the feather light touch of his mouth. Their first Valentine's, he bought her the tennis bracelet not only because it was beautiful, but because it was his personal reminder of his favorite part of her. The piece of jewelry protected the delicate flesh, kept it safe for him. He didn't think she knew that he loved that particular appendage, she probably assumed he was more interested in something sexual. A few years ago, a few girls ago, he would have, preferring the superficiality of breasts or something else usually flaunted shamelessly by his previous conquests. Not that he didn't love the sight of Rory without clothing, he found her gorgeous, but he reserved his adoration specifically for something considered plain. The fact that the underside of her wrist was simple to the untrained eye, yet unexpected reminded him why he fell in love with her all over again each time he saw her. He felt a slight rush of cool air brush over the bridge of his nose, caused by her hand waving in front of his face, effectively drawing his attention.

"Okay, speak. I am slowly becoming caffeinated and I know you're serious about something because you wouldn't voluntarily give me coffee so early in the day without a good reason."

"I'm scared."

"You know I was only kidding about the monsters, right?"

"I didn't like who I was when I was yelling at you. And we broke up because I ended up screaming at you in a bar. I really do like your hair, it was just that it made me feel left out. I can't believe that I was triggered by something so tiny. I don't like fighting with you, I hate who I am when that happens. I'm so scared that I'm gonna lose it and you're going to decide that I'm not worth this and then we'll be trading insults and holidays with the kids."

She looked shocked at the words tumbling clumsily out of his mouth. She abruptly pushed her chair back, grabbed his hand and held it firmly.

"Look at me!" She commanded. "We had a fight. It was something stupid that probably could have been avoided, but we got over it. I don't care what we fight about as long as we can get past it. Even if we fought every day, Logan, you are worth this. You have always been and will always be worth this. You're going to have to figure out a way to get past this paralyzing self-doubt and when you do, you're going to talk to me about it, and we'll work on this together. When I tell you that I love you, I mean it. I will always love you. What you're worth to me is so much more than anything superficial; you're a part of me and I could never let that go." She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely, fighting tears. He felt revived by her touch, drawing energy from her love. Just as he was fully embracing the tightness of her grasp, she pulled away violently and slapped him across the back of his head; he winced in pain as she stepped back, her arms folded across her chest. "Logan Lawrence Huntzberger, if you are ever so stupid again as to think you are not worth my love, I will begin an unholy reign of terror and then you will be in a great deal of pain."

"Please, aside from the well-placed upside the head, you're almost incapable of inflicting bodily harm."

"Did I say body? I was thinking about calling Daddy Warbucks up and having a little chat about your trust fund, you know, hitting you where it hurts."

"Aw, you wouldn't stoop that low."

"Wanna bet? One more outburst and it'll all go away, just like that. Her hand made a sweeping gesture, indicating his electronics, his toys and other expensive paraphernalia.

"You would leave me a broke, broken man?"

"Definitely. I'd even scratch your Porsche and then kick a dog, in front of nuns."

"What has my Porsche ever done to you? You are very dark and twisty inside, you know that?"

"How did you find the time to mock Grey's Anatomy without me? You're in London!"

"Perks of being a media mogul." He smirked smugly, knowing he had finally bested her in pop culture. She moved towards him, curving her body to fit perfectly.

"Do these perks extend to the wife of a media mogul?"

"Perhaps, if said media mogul's wife was really nice and loving and promised her very powerful media mogul husband a foot massage after he comes home tired from a very long day of ruling the world."

"Well, I'll have to tell that to your trophy wife after I divorce your ass and gain millions in the process. Maybe Mitchum will even give me a paper or two, he's always liked me better."

"Well, you're just blatantly lying with that one, aren't you? Mitchum doesn't like anyone, he tolerates certain people for extended periods of time."

"For a famous newspaperman and a self-proclaimed 'media mogul', you suck at getting the story right, just like your Hemingway faux pas."

"Hey, if I recall, you were incorrect about that as well."

"At first", she countered, "but then I was a real reporter and investigated the truth." She placed sardonic emphasis on 'real reporter' just to goad him. He poked her sides playfully, egging her on. "Oh yeah, and what is this truth?"

"That your father likes me more than you!"

"I beg to differ. I think my position as the prodigal son elevates me over you, the acquired daughter-in-law."

"Are you implying that I, fabulous, brainy, beautiful me, would lie to you in terms of our family?"

"Definitely." He got caught on what she had said. "Wait, you said our family?"

"Yes..." she said, puzzled. "Our family, you know, your chain-smoking mother who can barely stand me, my utterly amazing mother and her overprotective Luke, my overbearing and manipulative grandparents, our family."

His face crept into a smile; _their_ family. He always considered their relationship and impending marriage to be separate from his family, for whom he generally disdained. But she was right; even though their respective relatives were many cents short of a dollar, combined they were _their_ crazy, awkward loved ones.

"Well," his face twisting into a maniacal grin, "it's nice to hear how happy you are to have great-aunt Emmeline at the wedding. I'm sure you'll be able to convince her that she can leave at least half her cats at home." She merely huffed and stomped away in response.

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Finally it was June and she was all moved into the London flat. Even though the place was already more or less completely furnished, including a bevy of her clothes that had somehow worked themselves in his closet, she still insisted on an endless stream of luggage. Between himself and Armand, it took several trips to completely transfer her belongings upstairs. Trying not to trip over her scattered knick-knacks, he scrambled to reach the phone as it was buzzing. "Yes?" he huffed, nearly out of breath from tangling his foot in an errant suitcase strap.

"Mr. Ganay is here for you, sir, shall I allow him upstairs?"

"Yes, Armand, please give him the elevator key. And please, remember to call us Logan and Rory instead of sir or ma'am, okay?"

"Of course, sir, as you wish." He sighed, replacing the receiver on its cradle. The formality required by his position chafed against him; he would rather be considered for his actions instead of his name. A rapid succession of knocks announced Paul's arrival. He happily threw open the door, greeting the man with a friendly handshake. "Hey, Paul, good to see you! What brings you by on a Saturday?"

"Well, Logan, I just can't get enough of you at the office, of course." Logan laughed, ushering him further into the apartment. Paul eyed the travel detritus that had overtaken the living room.

"Moving out? Do you feel a need to hide your love of glittery pink Hello Kitty luggage from the rest of the office?"

"No, those are Rory's, she just moved in."

"The famous Rory is real? And here I thought all the pictures of her in your office and your stories were from a magazine." They were interrupted by a rustling at the door.

"Babe, Armand called me the m-word again! Why didn't you bribe him to call us Logan and Rory?" She looked up from her shopping bags, quickly realizing that they were not alone. "Oh.", she blushed profusely, "I didn't realize you had company." He watched Paul move towards her, eagerly extending his hand.

"I would hardly think I qualify as company. I'm Paul, I'm a graphic designer at the paper."

"Oh, nice to finally meet you! I'm Rory, Logan's fiancée."

Paul continued, "I'm sorry if I interrupted your plans for the day, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I would drop by and try and convince Logan here to join me at the pub."

She shook her head vehemently. "Don't be silly, you're not interrupting anything! It's so nice to finally meet someone in London who has friends that don't already know me as that 'darling five-year-old with cake all over her face' from my great-grandmother's pictures."

Paul chuckled, amused at her description. "I guess some embarrassing things about family are universal, although I do believe my parents have a similar photo of me, except it was probably at my last birthday party after Newman stage-dived into the cake."

She nodded her head in understanding. "Ah yes, the Newman incidents. I've been very amused to hear about them from Logan. So you stopped by to grab Logan for a drink?"

"Yes, but I can see you blokes would rather immerse yourselves in setting up house."

Logan stepped in. "Nonsense, why don't you call Jen and have her meet us at the pub? Unless, Ace, you'd rather transfer what little of wardrobe of yours hasn't surreptiously made its way into my closet already?"

"Actually, if it would be alright with you boys, tagging along would be great. I'd love to meet Jen, potentially know a British female that doesn't resemble Margaret Thatcher, post internal Tory coup."

Logan smirked at her generous depiction of the few women she knew in London. "Odd comparison, but if you made a normal reference, I'd get worried."

Paul smiled a little to see their dynamic as a couple. "I'm sure Jen would love to meet us there, she'll probably relish a new Harrod's accomplice."

"Actually, I know the al Fayeds, anytime Jen wants, we can have them close the store for some private shopping."

Paul shook his head. "No, I beg you, whatever you do, do not mention that to her. I don't need her disillusioned with my lowly life after experiencing the Huntzberger style."

Rory gravitated towards Paul, something Logan was happy to see. Linking arms with him, she led him out the door and Logan was left to follow behind, listening in to Rory regale Paul with tales of his less-savory behavior.

He felt his pocket vibrate on their way to the pub. He cursed, reluctantly loud enough for her to hear him and interrupt her animated conversation with Paul and Jen. "Hey," she said softly, intertwining their fingers as he pulled them both into an empty doorway.

"Yeah," he sighed, "there's some emergency in Taipei with the printers, I've got to head into the office and find out what happened."

"Do you think you'll have to go out there?" Her cerulean eyes met his, hesitation evident. He grasped his hair in frustration, lightly tugging on the longer strands.

"I'm not sure. I couldn't tell you. I'll know more when I check in with the regional branch there." She moved closer towards him, bringing her arm around his waist.

"Do you want me to come with? Taiwan could be fun this time of year."

"But you haven't planned anything, no research has been done, this would be, dare I say it, a spontaneous trip!"

"Hey, I can do spontaneous. If I say I can, I can. I am perfectly capable of spontaneous."

"Well," he bought himself a few seconds to process a plan. "How about you let Paul and Jen walk you back to the flat and I'll call you whenever I have details."

"Okay, it'll give me some time to at least google some decent attractions."

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He found himself once again in a foreign hotel room, lonely and bored. He was in the midst of trying to arrange a mini-Asian vacation, similar to the one they were supposed to have gone on after his graduation. There was a knock on his door, opening to reveal a timid concierge holding a London tabloid. He wordlessly took the publication while answering his cell phone distractedly; "Yes?"

"Do you have it?"

"Hi Dad, I'm assuming you mean the latest copy of OK! that you somehow managed to have messengered to my Taiwanese hotel? Isn't this a rival paper anyway?"

"Don't justify it by calling it a paper, it doesn't report anything of value, just idle, pointless gossip." There was a certain edge to his father's tone that he had difficulty placing.

"So why did you feel the need to bribe the hotel to get it to me?"

"Turn to page six and you'll figure it out." His voice was rather icy, which mad Logan start to become nervous. His fingers slipping on the glossy corners, he threw the magazine open to reveal a full layout with the large title of "Lusty Lorelai?" splashed over two pages. Immediately he felt his heart plummet and his eyes cloud with tears. He was in disbelief; she was cheating on him, there was proof all over a cheap tabloid.

"Logan! Logan!" His father's voice drew him back.

"The engagement is off." He was monotonous, there wasn't anger yet to muster.

Mitchum's voice reached an unfamiliar register. "Don't be an idiot, look at the photos."

He raked his eyes over the pages, the grainy shots swimming before him. There was one of both of them, taken right before he left for Taiwan, when he pulled her into a doorway. Right next to it was a series of shots capturing a moment between her and another man, him grabbing her arm, pulling her into his body, her looking up at him. The mystery man's face was out of focus, but there was a familiar woman in the pictures, and then it hit him; the man in the pictures was Paul, with Jen standing right next to him. His pulse returned to normal after he realized the story was completely fabricated. He immediately returned to the conversation, sensing that his father could tell that he understood the photos were faux. "Why would they print these? Nobody knows her in London!"

"I'm not sure, but this is an attack on our family and I will not tolerate it! Get on the next flight, we're suing their asses. Nobody screws with my daughter and son and gets away with it. I'll meet you in the office with our lawyers." Mitchum replied.

It dawned on Logan that Mitchum sounded protective, going so far as to call Rory his daughter. He had never heard his father like that, and it comforted him; his father was trying to keep his family from harm. He searched his cell phonebook and dialed Paul's number.

"Hello?"

"Jen, it's Logan."

"Oh, thank God Logan, you have got to believe me, those bloody mongrels basically staged those photos. Rory was walking ahead of us and looked the wrong way before crossing the street when this cab roars out of thin air right towards her. Paul managed to pull her back in time, but she was so shaken. Please believe me, I was right there, she loves you, she wouldn't cheat on you, nothing happened." She was frantic, her voice wavered unevenly.

"Jen, it's okay. I know the pictures are a lie. How is Rory?"

"Logan, you have to come right away, she won't come out of your flat, and even if she would, your building is being staked out 'round the clock by those bloody paparazzi."

His heart fell again, his blood boiling in his veins. Rory needed him, need his support and he was trapped in Asia, unable to help her.

"I have to call her!"

"It's no use, she hasn't picked up the phone or answered the door in three days, and we've all but tried to smoke her out of the flat. Oh, those bloody reporters and their stupid tabloids!"

"Jen, why was this story even in those?"

"Oy, I don't know, slow news day? All any rag can talk about is poor Rory. Oh, what a week for Posh and Becks to be on holiday!"

"Okay, Jen, I'll be on the next flight home. In the meantime, try to get in touch with Rory, alright?"

"Ta, Logan, cheers."

He clicked off and then hit Colin's speed dial. Colin picked up, sounding a bit boozy.

"Colin, it's Logan. Have you heard from Rory?"

"Logan! No, I haven't talked to her since last week, what's up?"

"Listen, I need to you head to the airfield and get on the plane, Rory needs some help and I can't get there until at least a day from now."

"Jeez, what does Reporter Girl have that you won't trust the local movers to handle?"

"Colin! This is important! The paparazzi are after her and she needs a friendly face or two. See if you can stop by Stars Hollow and get Lorelai and Luke. Call the pilot and let him know you need the jet. I'll call our doorman and tell him to allow you up. Please man, I really need you to do this for me. She needs someone there for her."

Colin responded with a sobering yes. "Of course, Logan, consider it done. We'd do anything for our little Wendy. See you in London."

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He struggled through the horde of telephoto lenses, blinded by the thousands of flashes exploding before his eyes. A particularly aggressive reporter shoved a microphone in his face and asked, "So, Logan, how does it feel to have the tables turned? Lorelai's got a bloke on the side, do you have your own bird?"

He nearly swung at the man's smarmy grin, but thankfully Armand rushed towards him with a large umbrella to shield him.

"Armand, what the hell are they doing out here?"

"Sir, I'm terribly sorry, sir, the bobbies can't do a thing except offer you and Miss Rory an escort if you wish."

"No, never mind. How is she?"

"Oh sir, the entire building has been frightfully worried about her. Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell-Hearst have ordered a bodyguard for her, but so far, he's just stood outside the apartment door. Mr. Huntzberger hasn't left since he arrived several days ago, and your group from the States have left once twice to find some sweets, Ben and Jerry's, I believe Miss Lorelai requested? I'll phone the flat when the escorts arrive should you wish to leave."

Logan sighed gratefully, impulsively embracing the doorman. "Thank you Armand, for taking care of her." The man blushed slightly and moved back an appropriate distance. "Not at all, sir, please wish her well for me."

The elevator ride seemed endless with the lighted numbers mocking him. Finally, he burst through the door to be greeted by Lorelai, Colin and Finn silently playing cards while Luke was stirring something in the kitchen. Lorelai caught his eye and pointed down the hallway where he came upon the sight of Mitchum uncomfortably slumped in a chair outside their bedroom, looking a like a ragged guard dog. He smiled at his dad's hidden caring nature, a quality he didn't know the man possessed. He gently shook the haggard's shoulder, stepping back as his father rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Dad, how long have you been here?"

"Not too long, I just wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Dad, go home, please, take a shower and get some rest. Thank you so much for being here, but you need to take care of yourself too."

"You sure, I don't mind staying in case she needs something, she's sleeping right now but when she wakes up, she might need something." He took in the deep lines of worry etched on his father's face, and for the first time in his life, he understood. He understood his father, his clumsy attempts to demonstrate his love, his foray into such an unknown territory. Logan truly appreciated the risks his father took, venturing into an emotional outpouring he wasn't used to or particularly triumphant at. It touched the deepest part of his heart, seeing his father worried and scared over what used to be a peripheral person in his life. "Thank you for being here for her, Dad."

Mitchum shifted his gaze sheepishly, avoiding Logan's eyes as he muttered incoherently about Rory. "What did you say, Dad?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I said, she needed somebody to be here for her, and I wanted to be that person for her." The two men embraced silently and Logan quietly opened the bedroom door. He spotted Rory, crumpled beneath the covers, her brunette hair tucked around her with loving care. Her eyes were closed, but her face was tense even while she slept. He sat gingerly next to her, stroking her cheek with a finger. Her lashes fluttered slightly and her mouth stretched into a yawn. "You're home!"

He loved that she knew he was here without even opening her eyes. He loved that she could feel him exactly like he felt her. She shifted, allowing him enough room to beside her to lie down. She automatically rolled into his arms, sighing happily. He leaned closer to her, bringing his mouth to her ear. "I am so sorry babe that you had to go through that alone."

She turned to face him, biting back tears. "I just don't understand though, what did I do? Why are they attacking me?"

"Ace, they're not attacking you, they're using you to attack Huntzberger Media. They're taking cheap shots and they know it. Boy, you should have heard my dad talk about it when he called me in Taiwan, he was more upset than I've ever seen him."

"Yeah, Dad was more amazing than I would have ever given him credit for."

His eyes narrowed in confusion at her choice of words. "Dad? You mean my dad?"

She nodded. "He came over immediately and didn't leave the apartment except to yell at his lawyers, but he always took the calls out in the office so I wouldn't hear him. The first night, I couldn't get out of bed, I was so worried about whether or not you believed the photos, and I was crying, a sobbing mess, and he gave me a big hug and stroked my hair until I fell asleep. He kept telling me that nobody hurts his little girl and that it was okay for me to cry, that even strong girls like me could cry once in a while."

He was taken aback by her tale of Mitchum; maybe in some parallel universe that might have occurred, but this was Mitchum Huntzberger, the man who barely made time for his own children, much less his children's significant others.

"Run that by me again, just indulge me for a moment, okay?"

"I didn't ask him to be here, I didn't ask him to stay, in fact, I was so ashamed for him to see me fall apart, but I don't know, I can't explain it, he just had this look on his face like there was no other place in the world he'd rather be, that he was angry that he couldn't be hurt instead of me. I've never had that, had somebody be my father. I mean, yes, there's Luke, but nobody's ever told me that I was their little girl, my dad was never around, he's not my dad, he would never have done that. But Dad, I mean, Mitchum, I didn't even have to ask, he just loved me like I was Honor, or you, or something."

Logan shook his head; "He's never loved either one of us like that."

She wiped away the fresh tears that had made glistening tracks down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Logan, I'm sorry that those pictures were published, I'm sorry that I'm not strong enough for you."

He gripped her face firmly between his hands. "Don't you ever think that you're not strong enough for me. You are she-woman, hear you roar! You are stronger than any person I've ever met, I mean, you got Mitchum Huntzberger to hug a crying girl, voluntarily, for no financial benefits or gains. You have to pick the battles you're going to fight, and sometimes fighting means letting people with other areas of expertise handle it, say, your fiancé and his family who just happen to run the world's largest media conglomerate. If I, at one point, am challenged to a pop culture contest, or an eating competition, I will defer to my better half, of course." He snuggled deeper into their bed, relishing the feel of being home with her.

"So did you freak out when you saw the pictures?"

"Um…"

"It's okay if you did, Logan, I would have, I did, it's a knee-jerk reaction. You know I love you and would never cheat on you, right? After what we've been through, both of us, it's an impossibility."

He nodded, feeling slightly guilty for having rushed to an incorrect judgment. "I'm sorry."

She chuckled slightly. "It seems we're doing a lot of apologizing for a whole lot of nothing, huh?"

He returned her smile, blowing behind her ear to make her shiver. "And I'm sorry you had to spend all that time cooped up with my father. Maybe you can enlighten me as to why you're suddenly calling him a warmer endearment than any of his blood family does."

She shrugged; "I can't explain it, we just saw it and each other differently. Kind of like on our plane ride over here. Maybe once he saw me collapse, he figured out he didn't always need to pretend that he had it together too. If it bugs you, I can just call him Mitchum. Dad was just a term we were throwing around together when it was the two of us, attempting to survive on the gross food you had here since no take-out guys wanted to fight the paparazzi."

"What gross food? Marika keeps the fridge stocked with tons of organic vege…oh, wait, I see what you mean."

"I have to say, Dad can make a mean grilled cheese."

He turned introspective for a few moments. "Ace, it's okay that you have a relationship with my father that I may never understand. Maybe I'm just not capable of understanding it yet. I want to, and I'm gonna try, but it's okay if I don't, right?"

"You will get there, babe, you and your father have made leaps and bounds, give it time. But don't worry, you totally kick his ass Mario Batali wise."

Yet again, he marveled at her unrealized ability to wrap men around her little finger, since he fell for her all over again every moment.


	5. Chapter 5

"Tell me about your first time."

Her head shot up, fully distracted from the paper she was perusing. "Why do you want to know Logan? I told you about the Dean thing."

He shrugged his shoulders but kept his voice direct. "Tell me about your first time. I want to hear about it aside from the other woman thing."

She sighed and looked down at the table, like he expected her to. He knew she wasn't comfortable discussing this with him, but he needed to prove a point to both of them, and he was at a loss as to how to go about it.

"Okay, it was the night of the Dragonfly's opening, Dean and I had been talking a lot as of late, he was having problems with his marriage, one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was wrapped up in a sheet trying to pick a song for us."

He narrowed his eyes at her, puzzled by what she meant. "Is that some Stars Hollow vernacular I missed here?"

She blushed but continued, "No, after 'it' was over, I got it into my head that we needed a song to remind us of that night, so I was very engrossed in proper musical selection. I blame my friendship with Lane for that one."

He wanted to keep the conversation a little bit lighter for her sake, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. "I hope you went with Highway to Hell."

She dropped her head on the table, groaning at both the inappropriateness and truth in his statement. "Logan, I still feel guilty about it. I will always feel guilty about it. I thought I loved him, I thought having sex meant he loved me too."

He frowned a little; "Sex doesn't necessarily mean love."

Here she pulled her head up and stared straight into his eyes, throwing him off-balance. "To people who never learned to separate the two, it does."

He was taken aback slightly. "What does that mean?"

She held her gaze, which he knew signified the importance of the topic for her. "I never learned to separate sex and love, and I don't think I should have either. Sex in the absence of love is empty, meaningless, a physical reinforcement of every insecurity I've ever felt. Did I try to separate them? I attempted at it, especially when we started dating casually, since I knew it wasn't fair to either of us for me to always believe the two were linked. In some ways, I needed to keep telling myself that having sex with you meant something, it meant a whole lot to me, and I thought if I could understand its message enough for the both of us, every morning the bed was cold didn't hurt as much."

He hung his head guiltily, feeling a wave of sadness wash over him as he remembered their first few nights together. "It meant something to me, Rory. I was the exact opposite, I never learned to equate sex with love, and to me they were two distinctly different entities. Please don't think it didn't mean anything to me, that I liked leaving your room in the middle of the night. I was just scared that it wasn't just sex anymore; I never had to deal with having feelings linked to that. Just sex I could handle, making love was really really scary to me."

She turned the tables on him, playing her own version of twenty questions. "When was the first time you made love?"

He scrubbed his face, tugged a bit at his hair and bit his lip. "Honestly? The night we had that awful dinner with my parents, where they kept going on and on about how I couldn't marry you."

She snorted. "Why on earth would you pick that time?"

He got defensive: "Hey, you asked me, I answered, and now I will explain. You are the first girl I have run away from and come back to, voluntarily. When my mother started ranting about how you couldn't marry me, I got pissed that this was yet another thing they were trying to decide for me. So when I basically ditched you on campus to clear my head, I evaluated my choices. I realized it was my choice to come back to you, and it was something I wanted apart from everyone else. Being with you that night was my first experience with making love, because it stopped being about sex. It was about how you made me feel, how I made you feel. Why, when was yours?"

"The night I told my mom I wasn't going back to Yale."

"And you belittle me for my choice?"

She shot back, "Hey, you asked me, I answered, and now I will explain. Don't misunderstand me; it was never just sex with you. But that night, I was so broken, and all you wanted to do was put me back together again. That's when I gave my whole heart to you; you proved to me that you stopped running."

They both sat silently, contemplating the ground that had been covered between them. Their communication varied; sometimes it was teasing, sometimes it was pointless banter, but rarely had they both let their guards down so completely during daylight hours. There was something so raw about the sunshine; it gave them no cover or shelter from certain things, like the darkness did. He came to the conclusion that now their secret-telling reflected both of their personalities: nighttime for Rory, easing her way into accepting things, admitting things, always shy, and daytime for him, the bluntness easier without shadows.

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What he had hopes for as an idyllic summer in London with Rory was quickly becoming an adventure through different airports. Fortunately she had been able to travel with him, sightseeing occasionally, but usually attending meetings with him, for which he was grateful. They had honed their system; the pair of then worked well together, Yale had proven that. Without proper introductions to the various staff, most had assumed Rory was an editor that he liked to bring along on his visits. She preferred it this way, never being one to capitalize on her name, or his, for that matter. In fact, she only permitted a lengthier explanation of their relationship after she had visited the office, at some social function they were required to attend. He remembered the last dinner they had with the editorial board of their German investments.

"_So, Fraulein Gilmore, how long have you worked for the Huntzberger Media?"_

"_Not that long, I just graduated from Yale, but my first internship was with Mitchum at a paper my sophomore year."_

_She glanced at him and they exchanged secret smiles, both thinking about her tirade against Mitchum and the disastrous internship. Now they could laugh about it, but it had been a long and arduous journey to find humor in what was once a very bleak situation._

"_And what paper are you employed at?"_

_She danced around the question a little, allowing only that she concentrated on whatever presented a problem, relying on the Hong Kong merger as her primary example. Inevitably, someone would ask about her marital status, noticing her ring, usually instantly if she had the Huntzberger one on if there was a society crowd. Like always, she looked to him to smooth over the conversation. The pair of them relied on a subtle signal if they were separated at these events, which happened far more frequently than he liked. The first time it happened, her uncertainty was palpable, but only noticeable to him though. She had been cornered by a particularly aggressive socialite wife, whose eyes had nearly hit the floor when she grabbed Rory's hand and turned the ring around so that the stones were visible. Rory balked at the woman's forcefulness, frantically searching for him to rescue her. Somehow he managed to swoop in and extricate her from the crowd of crows that had gravitated towards the blinding object. With his arm around her waist reassuringly, she relaxed into his strong embrace. Later that evening, after they had returned to their suite and gone to bed, he woke up to find the sheets cold and weak light emanating from the under the bathroom door. He found her slumped in the Jacuzzi tub, a blanket pulled around her, muffling the soft tears that fell._

"_Hi." She mumbled when she looked up at him, hastily trying to wipe away tear tracks. "Did I wake you?"_

_He smiled wryly as he motioned for her to scoot over so he could climb into the sunken basin. "No, the unfamiliarity of being able to actually move more than four inches in bed did. Want to enlighten me as to why you're in the tub and not trying to push me out of bed for sharing the covers?"_

"_Um, the tub looked comfy?"_

"_Rory."_

_She looked away, suddenly fixated on the waterfall faucet. Quietly, she spoke: "When will I be good enough? When I sit behind you, thinking about how much of your money I can spend this time, or when I gossip at parties with the other society wives about which secretary you're sleeping with this week? I don't want to do that; I want to be good enough right now."_

_Her eyes were glued to the faucet, unblinking, while her fingers traced the hem of the blanket. He figured it would be best to match her tone, soothing her little by little so she wasn't provoked. "You are good enough, you're better than those vultures, trust me, I wouldn't have looked twice if I thought you were like those awful girls."_

_She shifted minutely to look at him. "Logan, your mother hates me, Your grandfather hates me, your past conquests hate me, inevitably, half the world will hate me and I have no idea what I've done or what I can do about it. I don't want you to suffer because I'm inept."_

_It hit him, the perfect argument against her. "But you're a Gilmore, you went to Chilton, had a coming out party, your ancestors came over on the Mayflower! You were the editor of the most prestigious college newspaper, and you forget two important things: I love you and my father loves you. And let's not forget who planned the most successful DAR event last year?"_

_She weakly smiled, mildly protesting him. "I served mac and cheese, hardly society-appropriate food."_

"_Hey, even Hartford socialites get sick of foie gras and caviar."_

_She continued matter-of-factly; "Your mother still hates me."_

"_Ace, if my mother liked you, I would have run away faster than you could say 'that lovely Fallon girl'. Besides, do you honestly want my mother to like you? My gold-digging, social-climbing, boozehound of a mother?"_

_She admonished him; "Logan! That's your mother you're talking about!"_

_He shrugged. "It's true, isn't it?"_

_She shook her head. "Every girl wants their mother-in-law to like them, it just seems like I'll never win with her; I go to Yale, I'm a career woman and will embarrass you, I drop out and plan parties like my grandmother, I'm a gold-digger who only wants your money."_

"_Why should it bother you so much that Shira Huntzberger doesn't like you?"_

_She threw up her hands in frustration. "Because, Logan, she's a) your mother and b) Shira Huntzberger. And not to quote my grandmother, but there are people and then there are Huntzbergers!"_

"_I'm still missing it. Are you or are you not going to be Rory Huntzberger?"_

"_Well, yes, I guess Lorelai sounds better though, right?"_

"_So, you implied that Huntzbergers are different than other people, right?"_

"_According to Hartford society, yes."_

"_Well, Mrs. Soon-to-be Lorelai Huntzberger, I'm not seeing the problem."_

"_Your mother hates me and nobody thinks I'm good enough!"_

"_I think you're good enough, Honor and Dad think you're good enough, our entire Eastern European division want to build a fracking shrine to you, so believe me when I say this, you are better than a lot of people! How many people can say they were mentioned in the Wall Street Journal before they graduated college?"_

"_Elian Gonzalez."_

"_Can you stop fighting me for like two seconds and acknowledge that we're lying in a hotel bathtub at four in the morning?"_

_She shrugged nonchalantly and settled further into the recessed backrest. He moved closer to her, pressing his cheek to her temple. "Do you want the bottom line on this?"_

"_Hit me with your best shot."_

"_Okay, I love you, you love me, we're good together, and whatever anybody else thinks doesn't matter, and we'll fight to get through this together."_

_She pulled back to look him in the eye, maintaining a straight face while telling him "Love is a battlefield."_

"_And we are young, Miss Benatar, but the night is not, so let's get some sleep, okay?" He took her in his arms and they lay together, falling asleep in the bathtub._

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He hated that his life had become a blur, marked by meetings, business dinners and blaring alarms. He stopped looking at his calendar, depressed by the multitude of activities that outlined his days. He hadn't yet gone so far as to have to schedule couple time with Rory, but between the two of them, it was out of sheer will that they could find more than a scattered hour or two together. He felt bad that she didn't have an official title, well, even an official job yet, and he knew he was being selfish keeping her with him when he traveled. She hadn't been back to see her mother, or her town, or even her goddaughter in months. He wasn't sure if she was really happy in London, so far from everyone. He knew she even missed Friday night dinners, although his only evidence was a few sighs every now and then. They both were busy; one quick glance at his Blackberry inbox alerted him to that fact. He resolved to clear her schedule and send her home for a good, junk-food coma courtesy of Lorelai.

He turned the lock, hearing the metal on metal echo through the darkened apartment. His calls for her were met with silence, so he headed into the kitchen to search for a note. There, pinned on the fridge, in between take-out menus and random flea market magnets, were her instructions:

-_Meet me at the Chelsea House, wear tuxedo pants and a shirt, I sent your jacket to the cleaners and I'll have it with me-_

Shit, he thought, he forgot about this event. He rushed around to get ready, wracking his brain to remember if she told him about it. He figured it was probably some stuffy fund raiser, although the party planners chose well with the Chelsea House. Shoving his keys back into his pants, he hurried downstairs to grab the car he called.

He walked in the club, searching for some indication of where the event was being held, but just stumbled through dark hallways. Finally, he flagged down an employee, who conferred with the manager and informed him that the doors he needed were to his left. Sighing inwardly at the unnecessary actions of the club employees, he mentally prepared himself for what lay behind the door he gingerly pushed open. The inside was dark, which only added to his utter confusion. With a sharp hissing noise, the cavernous space exploded with light from thousands of sparklers, illuminating the once-hidden crowd. Thunderous cheers and hoots followed, 'surprise' reverberating in his ears. The lights were flipped on and Rory rushed towards him, glee written all over her face. Catching his puzzled look, she laughingly kissed him and said, "Surprise! Boy, we thought you'd never get here!"

"Ace, what is all this? And why the surprise?"

Her face fell as realization hit her. "Oh Logan, you can't be serious. You forgot your own birthday?"

Now it was his turn for facial contortions brought on by sadness. He looked around before mumbling a quiet 'I guess so'.

"Well, looks like this party was timed perfectly to act as an intervention. Now here!" She gestured for him to put on his jacket, which was a full-length tailcoat lined with red satin. As he adjusted the coat over his shoulders, she pressed a top hat and gloves in his hands.

"What am I wearing? Better yet, what are you wearing?"

"You think I'd throw a party without a theme? I'm hurt that you don't think I am creative enough to do more than organize a fancy-schmancy dinner."

"I didn't say that, you did. I merely wanted to inquire about the oddity of our ensembles."

"Well, welcome to your life, also known as a three-ring circus. And what does every circus need?"

He followed her train of thought, undisturbed by the ease in which he understood her logic. "So I'm the ringmaster?"

"Bravo, Sherlock, Barnum and Bailey would be proud."

The pair was interrupted by Finn, Colin and Lorelai rushing over to join in their fun. He took in the motley crew's outfits; Finn and Colin wearing comically large ties and small hats, Lorelai dressed in a leotard with a sparkly headdress on. He shifted his gaze to Rory, who was clad in a red outfit with crossed straps and a small umbrella over one shoulder. "So you two decided to send in the clowns, but Lorelai, you look like a reject from the Tropicana."

"If it wasn't your birthday, I'd yell at you, but for a present, I will merely correct you." She stepped back with a flourish, effectively drawing attention to herself. "I am the great Flying Wallenda!"

Rory snorted behind him, her arms now wrapped firmly around his waist. "You do know that the Flying Wallendas are a family of tight rope walkers, and not just one person, right?"

"Save it, you used a children's story as your excuse!"

"Hey, it's juvenile literature, rooted in historical fact, thank you very much!"

"Yeah, Ace, what are you?"

"I happen to be Mireille, the famous French wire-walker. It was one of the books I got for Honor when she had the baby."

"Well, as long as you found justification. This party is amazing, Ace, thank you, I love it."

She blushed, matching the red sequined design around her eyes. "It's your birthday, Logan, something which some of us find hard to forget."

He heard a whip crack somewhere behind him; spinning around, it revealed the rest of his family. He spotted Honor, Josh and the baby, and behind them, much to his surprise, his parents, in some semblance of a costume. Of course, their outfits probably were outrageously expensive and authentic, but they were dressed nella thema for the bash and he appreciated it. Laughing, he extended his arms to take his niece from his sister and brother-in-law. "Honor, Josh, you guys, what are you doing here? Mom, Dad, you too!"

His sister shook her head, her curls bouncing around her shoulders as she cooed at her daughter. "Rory called us a while ago to clear a date that we all could make it and Emma's doctor said she could fly, so here we are! Don't you just love what I'm wearing?" She spun around, almost knocking Josh over in the process.

"Let's see, you have a large whip and crazy construction boots with heels on, so you're a Trump employee?"

"Ha, ha, Mister Funny Man, I am a lion tamer and of course, my sweet cub as my lion." Logan looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms, tucked into a mass of soft fur with a tail trailing bows. "So where's your chair? All good lion tamers carry chairs. And why a lion tamer?"

"I called Cartier and had them make me a chair pendant", she gestured to her necklace, "and I thought there was no better way to utilize my Manolo Blahnik boots again, since a respectable amount of time has passed since Jennifer Lopez ruined them in that moronic Jenny from the block thing, anyway, Emma looked too cute not to dress her up."

Rory came up behind him, only seeing Honor and Josh. "Is that my godbaby? Logan, are you trying to steal Emma from her godmama? That is not okay, even on your birthday. Bring her to me! Godmama commands it!"

He passed the squirming girl into Rory's arms, where she immediately broke out into a giant grin when Rory showered her with kisses. Spinning around with the baby, Rory and the rest of the group were interrupted by Mitchum's chuckle. "Hello son, happy birthday, hello Rory, or should I say godmama?"

Rory abruptly stilled when she spied Shira next to Mitchum. "Mitchum, Mrs. Huntzberger, so good to see you, glad you could make it. Excuse me; I think Emma needs to be changed."

Honor spoke up quickly; "Oh, I'll go with you Rory, I love having someone to chat with again in the bathroom."

Seeing the two women depart, Josh mumbled something about finding the bar and fled, leaving Logan with his parents.

"Mom, Dad, I can't believe you came!" He hugged his father, and then moved to kiss his mother politely on the cheek.

"Of course we came, Logan, it's your birthday. It wouldn't be proper to just mail your gift, now would it?"

"Of course not, Mother, what was I thinking?" He bit back his true thoughts, that she mailed birthdays 11-17 and thought that was perfectly acceptable."

His father leaned in to whisper softly in his ear. "I'm sorry about her, I'll go find Rory and say a real hello to her. Do you think you can manage her for ten minutes while I go round up the sane members of our family?" Changing his voice into a louder tone, he turned towards Shira; "I believe I'll join Joshua at the bar, may I order you a drink, Shira?"

"Belvedere on the rocks, Mitchum. I suppose you'll leave the present for me to give, right?"

"You're much better picking out cards, dear. I'll return shortly." Mitchum exited after pecking Shira on the cheek.

"So, Mom, have a nice flight over? Where are you staying?"

She waved her hand airily; "The usual small talk I see. So is there anyone else besides your friends here? Did Rory extend the invitation to the Gilmores or the Haydens?"

He curled his lips in distaste; of course his mother was only interested in the guest list to see how many society points she could tally. "No, Richard and Emily sent their regrets and Rory isn't on speaking terms with Francine."

"But she is a Hayden, is she not? Has a paternity test ever been performed? I mean, that girl was conceived when her parents were mere children, I'm not sure I see the family resemblance."

"Mother, it is my birthday. My fiancée, that girl, you know, the one I love, invited you because she believes it is important to have family at celebrations. If the guest list had been left up to me, you would have been excluded. My advice to you; learn to like Rory for more than her bloodline. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe the people that I actually want to see on my birthday are waiting by the cake." He turned on his heel swiftly, almost colliding with his father returning with the drinks. "Logan, Shira, what's going on?"

"Mom was just being her usual self, you know, despising Rory because she's smart, talented and motivated by love instead of blind pursuit of money."

"Shira," Mitchum spat out menacingly, "the fact that our entire family likes Rory more than you should serve as some sort of warning to you. You will like my daughter, or you won't be welcome in the Hartford house anymore."

Logan saw his mother's face flame up, the redness trailing down to her expensively decorated collarbone. "What do you mean your daughter, Mitchum? You only have one daughter, Honor, unless you're finally admitting your infidelity and breaking the pre-nup."

"I mean Rory, Shira, Logan's fiancée and _my_ daughter, the minute she said yes to Logan's proposal she became part of this family, and you will behave towards her."

"Honestly, boys, must you be so dramatic? I just wanted to wish Logan a happy birthday and talk to Rory about the wedding. I thought she might want to use Sophia, since Honor loved her so much."

Both Logan and Mitchum remained silent yet dubious; they couldn't attack her since she technically gave them no cause, but every gesture she made screamed her disapproval. Rory unknowingly walked straight into the family conflict, obliviously bouncing the baby in the air. "Hey, Dad, the little lion was looking for her grandpa."

Logan silently caught her eye, willing her to stay quiet and feel his support. Unfortunately, Shira struck again before the two men could intervene.

"Rory, dear, how are wedding plans going? You just have to come to Hartford for a while, planning a wedding across the Atlantic must be so difficult, especially with all that work you must have. Tell me, where are your bylines? They must be published in the editions I don't have delivered to the main house."

The Huntzberger men snorted indelicately at Shira's sickly sweet tone and casual jabs at Rory. In that little exchange, his mother skillfully insulted Rory's party planning as well as writing. If Shira had been in the media business, Logan would have insisted she be on Huntzberger staff: she was far too lethal to be classified as an enemy. Adopting a forced casual stance, Rory shifted the baby to her opposite hip and squared her shoulders. The tension between the two women crackled in the air, and Logan moved to place his hand on Rory's back, rubbing his thumb along the exposed skin.

"Actually, Shira, thank you so much for your concern about the event. You're so right about it!"

Logan saw the shock that registered on all three Huntzberger faces. "She's right?"

Rory turned and gave him a look that he read as 'please, give me a little credit here.'

"Of course your mother is right, Logan! She planned Honor's spectacular wedding. Shira, I could really use your help finding good bartenders for the wedding. I'm sure you know where to get a man who mixes a good martini, right?"

Oh, his Ace was good. Beneath the pasted smiles, he could practically hear the barbs being launched: 'inept gold-digger who will ruin our family' vs. 'boozy, bored socialite who could get lost finding her way out of a paper bag'.

"Now, Rory, is your mother helping you, since you're soo busy in London?"

Even Logan felt the insinuation made, like a punch to the solar plexus. Rory merely cocked her head to the side and smiled: "Actually, my grandmother has been instrumental in the whole affair, apparently, it's been the talk of the DAR for months, I'm sure Constance and Nora have had little else to discuss, you know."

Logan was impressed by her composure; Shira had insulted her birth and the fact that her bloodline was pockmarked by that scandal, and Rory shot right back with the fact that Shira still couldn't get into the DAR while Rory was practically born into it. Glancing briefly at his father, the two men had a wordless discussion about how to break up the women. Emma, however, chose to do it for them. Letting out a loud wail, Rory instantly concentrated on her, forgetting about Shira. Pushing back the costume's hood, Rory soothingly brushed the little girl's head, pressing their cheeks together, whispering softly in her ear. Logan's heart did a strange flip; he wanted the baby to be his own daughter, be the love between Rory and himself. Rory always said that she wasn't any good with babies, citing Sookie's pregnancies and her awful tale of Gigi's mother's labor. He knew better though; her discomfort surrounding babies stemmed more from than the situation rather than the child. Watching her with Emma, he saw the love that radiated from her eyes.

Shira interrupted the moment, her eyes cast over with an indecipherable gleam: "Rory, why don't you and I take Emma to find Honor and maybe have some girl time?"

Logan started to protest but Rory leaned back to silence him. "Sure, Shira, that would be wonderful. Would you like to hold Emma? I think I've spotted Honor over with Colin and Finn." Rory passed Emma to Shira, and the two women set off to gather up their third.

Logan and his father exchanged confused glances, both speaking at the same time.

"Did you see that?"

"What the hell just happened?"

"One minute they were hurling insults and the next they're playing nice and talking about girl time?"

"The mind of a woman is a terribly difficult thing to understand. Let's go to the bar."

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He was in a meeting, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand, but couldn't help his eyes from wandering out the conference room windows to steal a glance at Rory. They had had their worst fight last night, and although they slept in the same bed, all was not well when they went to the office this morning.

"_Mmm." She had no idea how sexy her little mumbles were to him, especially when they came from his simplest actions. He thought she deserved a foot rub after the ridiculous publishers' dinner they had to attend last night, with her once again surrounded by socialites who wanted to talk about the latest handbags._

"_So, we haven't talked about babies in a while."_

_She sat up, knocking his hands away from her toes. "Well, that was blunt. What do you want to talk about?"_

"_Let's have one."_

"_I'm generally in that camp, you know that, we've talked about names with practically our entire families."_

"_No, I mean, let's have one now."_

"_Logan, no. We aren't married yet, and I do not want to find out the implications of a Huntzberger baby born out of wedlock, and I am not going to be fat in my wedding dress!"_

"_Why can't we? I mean, you haven't even said anything about any dates, you fed my mother all those lies about how far the planning was, so why can't we just elope or something and then nine months later we can have our own baby!"_

"_God, they're not like Netflix, Logan, you can't just order one and then send it back when you're finished with it! If we have a baby now, it means for the next eighteen years, we are directly responsible for it, and then for an entire lifetime after that."_

"_I know that, Rory, don't you think I know what having a baby means?"_

"_No. I really don't think you do, Logan, otherwise you wouldn't want to rush into this, you'd want to wait and plan out the best time to have one! It's not like having a baby is going to be like an LDB stunt, there's no such thing as pretend fatherhood!"_

"_Oh, like you'd really be an expert about that, it's not like Lorelai didn't spend your entire childhood convincing you that you didn't need a dad."_

"_Do not bring my mother or my upbringing into this, you arrogant ass. Yes, for you, a baby might be all fun and games, but what about for me? I have maternity leave to consider, how my assignments will be affected, how my entire career will be shaped! Add to that the fact that once we have kids, I highly doubt anyone in Hartford will expect me to work, and I am finally in a position where I can have the career I want."_

"_So this is all about you, isn't it? It always is. I can't believe you're so selfish, Rory."_

"_Oh, great, you're the one lecturing me about being selfish? I'm sorry, Mr. I had my life handed to me, Mr. Sleeps with anything with legs, Mr. is that the bottom of the Scotch bottle?"_

"_You know, I never thought you would be so petty, Rory, but I guess you're still a Hartford society bitch at heart, right? Like mother like daughter?"_

_There wasn't a verbal response to his last retort, but the smash of the glass picture frame hitting the wall behind him._

"_Really cute, Ror, you throw like a girl."_

"_Logan! I need you to not be in my face right now. I'm going to say a lot of things I don't mean and I do not want the baby discussion to be a fight that breaks us up. So I'm going to go take a bath and you're going to, ugh, I don't even know, but you will give me an hour to cool down, an hour which I think you need as well."_

_As she shut the door, Logan sank to the floor beside it, wondering how a simple conversation had escalated into the gigantic fight._

When he had finally crept into bed much later, she had constructed a pillow barricade between their sides and was firmly wrapped in all the blankets, leaving him bare sheets. He noticed, though, how she shifted towards his body when the bed creaked slightly under his weight, and how her hand snaked across her feather Maginot to find his. By the time he opened his eyes, her side was neatly made up and a terse note on her pillow informing him that she had gone to a doctor's appointment and would see him at the office. He knew that she wasn't really and truly mad at him, just like he wasn't mad at her, but they needed cooling off and an evaluation period to think about the points the other had brought up. Maybe he didn't really understand the demands of a baby, but he knew that his overwhelming love and enthusiasm for his own kid would compensate. He knew that if she had a baby right now, it would be difficult to manage a career, and how much value she placed on 'making something more' of herself. If only he could get through her head that she didn't need to place all this extra pressure on herself to prove that her mother's decision to have her at sixteen wasn't a mistake; that she was worth Lorelai's sacrifice. He pondered how he could make her see that, but then realized she had to find that out on her own. At the moment, she was busying herself at her desk, stacking paperwork around her like a work barrier. His own meeting adjourned and he started to move out of the room towards the elevators to head up to his own office. He saw Paul gathered with some male staffers he didn't recognize, and he noticed one of them was gesturing towards Rory, bunkered in at her desk. As Paul's eyes narrowed slightly, Logan thought whatever work chit-chat was occurring would be benefited by his presence. He walked up behind Paul in time to hear the unknown man lick his lips and say lasciviously "She looks right for a mid-day tumble, eh?"

Paul started to shake his head and warn the poor sod, but before he even opened his mouth, Logan pounced.

"Excuse me?"

The man turned and looked at him, obviously unaware that he was treading on very unstable ground. "Yeah, mate? The boys and I here were just discussing which one of these birds we fancied. I prefer that tiny little brunette, looks like her mouth isn't just for words, eh?"

It took every fiber of Logan's self-control to not punch the idiot. How dare he even think of Rory like that?

"You have exactly one hour to clear your desk and vacate the premises before I call security."

"Who the hell do you think you are, mate? Logan bloody Huntzberger?"

"Yes," he sneered, "I am Logan bloody Huntzberger, and that brunette you happen to fancy is my bloody wife. So I'll repeat myself again, slowly, clear your desk and vacate the premises before I have security remove you."

"Logan." He heard the venom in her voice and winced while he turned to face her.

"Yes, Ace?"

Her eyes filled him with fear; they burned with a white-hot anger he had rarely seen on her before.

"Did you just fire this man? For no reason other than he said something crude about me?"

"Yes, Ace."

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

"You ass! He didn't deserve to be fired! So what, he made a stupid comment about me. You can't go around firing people just because they say something you don't like!"

"Since I'm in charge of this paper, actually, I can do just that. I fired him for sexual harassment; I would have done the same thing if anyone else had made the same remarks about any other employee. The fact that he was discussing you just made the matter more urgent."

She stomped her foot in frustration at him, although they both knew she had no real reason to be angry at him, save for the fact that he was playing the jealously card a little more zealously than the situation required. "Ugh. You disgust me. I'm taking the rest of the day off. Think about things, would you? You rushing to action without even a second of hesitation makes me wonder what will happen with the baby!"

She spun on her heel and strode determinedly towards the elevator bank, leaving colleagues scurrying in her wake. The imbecile who had caused this mess slinked away, probably heading to gather his things before Logan had another meltdown. Logan wasn't upset about the fight, he was more perturbed by what Rory said to him, that he was impulsive and headstrong and somehow that translated into him not being ready to be a father. Fine, he thought, he could play her game as well. He missed Paul's congratulatory slap on the back as he stalked to his office to convince Rory he was anything but serious, both about their life together and about a future with a baby.

He found her in the home office, busy typing away since she had left the office early for the day. "I know you think that I'm being rash and impulsive and that I don't understand the demands of a baby, so I did a Rory thing and I made a pro-con list. Now before you can even butt in, yes, you're right, having a baby right now isn't the best idea. We're not married yet, and I don't really want to know the implications of having a child out of wedlock, even though I couldn't care less about it. If it were up to me, we could just elope and be done with the whole thing, but we can't. And you're right; you're in a really good place with your career, and I can't ask you to put your dreams on hold for me just because I want a baby right now. So the baby issue is shelved right now, okay? Maybe we can revisit it after you win a Pulitzer."

She looked up at him, smirking at his rambling and said simply; "I'm pregnant."


	6. Chapter 6

Previously: "I'm pregnant."

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He awoke to Rory hovering over him, gently dabbing his forehead with a damp washcloth.

"What happened?"

"You fainted."

"Did I really? Why would I do that?"

She felt his forehead with the back of her hand, soothing the worry wrinkles.

"Well, you came in here and you were rambling, very Gilmore of you, about how you made a pro-con list and we can't have a baby, and then I told you I was pregnant, and well, here we are on the floor."

"Wow. And here I thought hitting my head on the floor hard enough would fix that whole thing."

She sighed and flopped down on the floor next to him. "So…"

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his chest, intertwining it with his own. "Yeah…"

"You think we can do this?"

He turned and looked at her, seeing only how beautiful she looked with her face pressed into the carpet, and imagining next year at this time, when they'd have their very own baby and their very own little family.

He moved forward slightly, kissing her on the tip of her nose. "God, I hope so."

So there they lay, side by side, on the carpet in front of her desk, both lost in their own thoughts, staring at the ceiling, hoping they could give this baby everything.

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He wondered how long this giddy feeling was going to last; they were just past the seventh month and he could barely wait for their long wait to be over. He couldn't believe they had made it so far; he sometimes had to stop and pinch himself as a reminder that this wasn't just an elaborate dream concocted during a boring meeting. This, this pregnancy, this event, this journey that he was taking; it scared him senseless but made his heart and mind swell with pride. He proudly decorated any available surface with pictures; of Rory in her third month, in her sixth, when they saw the sonogram for the first time, the pattern of his baby's heartbeats. He still couldn't wrap his head around that; _his_ baby, _his _son, a little bit of himself and little bit of Rory all wrapped up in a perfect little boy. His son would be perfect; ten little fingers and ten little toes, he could already see them on the sonogram.

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"Did you know that your name means 'from the hollow'?

"No, that's funny though."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only one who's from the hollow here, but maybe we were destined to be together, huh? What's your name mean?"

"Lorelai means…alluring enchantress."

"Hah! That is so wrong."

"What, you don't think I'm an alluring enchantress?"

"You might be the furthest from an 'alluring enchantress."

"That is the nicest thing you could say to the woman who is currently playing house to your child, you know."

"I don't like alluring enchantress. How about 'brighter than the stars forever'?"

"Did you just quote a Styx song?"

"Hey, it's very fitting. I really like it. Why are you looking up names anyway? We've had these picked out since forever."

"No reason, I just thought it would be fun to play around with, design the world's ugliest baby name."

"Tuli Kupferberg."

"Hey, I liked The Fugs!"

"No, your mom liked The Fugs because they annoyed Emily. You liked them for the Norman Mailer reference."

"Drat! Must you destroy my indie music cred?"

"Yes, since Lane isn't here to do it, I alas must assume the mantle of Jeff Tweedy."

"I miss Lane. The baby shower was hysterical, wasn't it?"

_They stepped off the plane in Hartford, Logan sparing no expense when it came to Rory's comfort and safety, as well as the baby's. Lorelai, however, ignored all his efforts and nearly tackled her as soon as they hit the tarmac._

"_Lorelai!" He admonished. "Baby on board here!"_

"_How very Safety First of you, man who knocked up my little girl!"_

"_Excuse me, it's legit now!" he crowed, waving the couple's joined hands with the wedding bands._

"_You could just be telling me that so I don't make a fortune off the tip to the National Enquirer."_

"_Mom! That was you? You sold out Colonel Clucker? How could you?"_

"_Jeez, what's your damage, Heather?"_

"_Ladies, hate to break up this little love-fest, but aren't we late for something?"_

"_Do not usurp the Welcome Wagon here, buddy!"_

"_Mom, we talked about this. Cowboy hats are not appropriate attire, no matter how many Slur-pee machines Taylor installs. And I take it you went with the literal 'Welcome Wagon' rather than the Independence Day one?"_

"_I really enjoyed the parallels of the Natalie Portman feature. You could give birth in a Wal-mart, if you wanted to. We'd have to find one, of course, but it's possible."_

"_Moving on. What time is Miss Patty's dance showcase extravanganza?"_

"_You know, you didn't have to fly over here. Just because Kirk dedicates a dance to you does not necessitate presence."_

"_Stop being so jealous, Mom, I thought it was a cute idea."_

"_In theory, yes, like Furbies, however, in practice, Little Boy all over again."_

_The waiting limo idled while group animatedly chatted as they slid into the backseat, headed towards Star's Hollow. When they pulled up, the entire town was festively draped in blue, with a large glittery banner announcing "Welcome Baby Huntzberger"._

"_Mom! After all we went through with Sherry? Do you not remember 'Baby Kareoke?'"_

"_Oh, I remember. But Miss Patty and Babette latched onto this idea, and you know how hard it is to find sailors these days to distract them. I would have needed an entire aircraft carrier."_

"_RORY!" A pregnant Lane waddled down the steps, waving her hands frantically, followed by a concerned Zack._

"_Frank, stop the car!" He watched as Rory bolted out of the limo, moving faster than he'd seen in months, towards her best friend._

"_Aw, how Tanner Family."_

_He turned to ask Lorelai how the town pulled this off, but she silenced him with a wave of her hand and a smirk. "The Stars Hollow Princess is having a prince, hello! You're lucky I talked them out of the Medieval Times theme, Kirk on horseback has never been pretty."_

_Later that evening, surrounded by present mountains and Stars Hollow inhabitants, Rory and Logan finally got a few moments to be together._

"_So what do you think? Between the mountains of blue we have, we're either set for a boy or an entire Marines battalion."_

"_Are we missing anything? You know how much Honor loves baby shopping, I'm sure Steph would die of happiness to find Burberry baby clothes."_

_She smirked a little, but shook her head. "My mom made all of my baby clothes out of her old band tee shirts. I think that's a cute idea."_

"_Ace, you do realize you can't sew or anything, right? I realize that this whole maternal thing you've got going on here has caused a fluctuation of hormones, but it's actually made you delusional."_

"_I'm not saying I want to suddenly go Amish or anything, but I think it would be a cute idea to make his first outfit out of an old Yale shirt or something."_

"_You know, I think the gift shop has baby stuff too, I highly doubt we'd be hard-pressed to find a Yale baby outfit, and I think your grandparents would probably give us something Eli."_

_She scoffed; "Emily Gilmore give her first great-grandchild something ordinary? How plebian. I wouldn't put it past her to find some rare doo-hickey from Botswana or something that is absolutely not intended for baby use. Or she'll hire us a nanny so that I don't have to do anything, if your mother hasn't already arranged that."_

_He grimaced slightly: "Hate to break it to you, but Shira's probably got one already on call for the minute we bring the baby home. I think she expects all women to believe that ignoring their children is normal behavior."_

"_For the society set it is. My mom always told me bedtime stories about the evil Emily monster that locked Queen Lorelai away, only allowing the servants to speak with her."_

"_Promise me you won't tell our son insipid fairy tales, leave that to Lorelai, there's no doubt she'll rot his brain."_

"_Oh, don't worry, I plan on telling him stories about what his daddy was like in college and all the idiotic stuff he used to do, but honey, you need no embellishment."_

"_God, we're gonna have to watch out for Colin and Finn; I think the Australian believes the bottle to be the best method of starting alcohol consumption."_

"_Yeah, but think about all the boys' weekends you guys can have, Eli can tag along with you on your crazy outings. And I'm sure the LDB will probably adopt him as their unofficial mascot, given that he will be the little Huntzberger. God, I'm almost scared to think of what stunts he'll pull. Maybe if I dress him in tutus and let Emma use him for a live doll, I can curb that desire to be all he-manly woman hater."_

"_Hey! No son of mine is wearing a tutu, unless there is an almost ungodly amount of alcohol consumption involved."_

"_So you speak from experience, I assume?"_

"_When you're friends with Finn, it's basically impossible to avoid cross-dressing at least one time. I'm just happy Eli will get to tag along with all the fun business trips and Grandpa Mitchum's work tirades."_

"_Are you saying you don't want a daughter?"_

"_No, definitely not Ace, I would love a daughter, but I'm almost relieved we're having a boy first. Boys I can handle; just be the opposite of my father. Boys I get. A girl, however, would scare the shit out of me. Do you know that girls date? Our daughter will not date until she's thirty, if we don't put her in a convent first. And this way, she'll have Eli to protect her, too."_

_Rory smiled wryly. "If she doesn't date one of his friends first."_

"_No! Absolutely not! She is NEVER dating a society boy. All they do is use and abuse women, they're assholes, wastes of trust funds."_

"_Glad you're coming to terms with the vast majority of your life."_

_He was indignant; "I'll have you know I have reformed, and I have done more with my life in the past three years than all of my friends combined."_

_She smiled sweetly. "I know, hence the emphasis on most of your life, not all. There's hope for you yet, Huntzberger."_

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah, mock the man that worships the ground you walk on, I get it, there's little love lost on me."_

"_Wow, the newspaper king has quite the grasp on alliteration. If I wasn't already carrying your child, I'd offer right now."_

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Logan claimed the seat next to Emma, although it meant putting his cashmere sleeves in jeopardy. He could not move past the fact that his niece resembled an angel, even though she was covered in smashed peas. Shira clucked disapprovingly towards the little girl, seated at the imposing dining room table with the rest of the adults rather than concealed somewhere with a nanny. "Honor, isn't your nanny available today?"

His sister glanced up at her mother, adopting a bored tone: "No, Mom, we gave her the week off so she could be with her own family. Josh and I thought we could handle the baby ourselves. Besides, it's not Thanksgiving without all your family there."

Logan and his sister exchanged knowing glances, each conducting a mental calculation of how many Thanksgivings they spent with some non-English speaking nanny or maid while their parents were off shirking their responsibilities.

Mitchum interrupted, drawing attention to himself; "Well, we're all here now, aren't we? I'm thankful for that. In fact, why don't we start a new family tradition for our new family members and go around, saying what we're most grateful for? Shira, you start."

His mother, clearly frazzled by this foreign outpouring of emotion from her husband, stuttered, "Well, the Hermes waiting list for the ostrich Kelly is down to only one or two people, some petty concubine of the Sultan of Bhutan…"

Mitchum and Logan both coughed loudly into their napkins.

"Wait, I wasn't finished!" she covered semi-gracefully, "and I am thankful for this…this delicious turkey dinner."

Logan leaned over to whisper in Rory's ear: "Notice how she avoided mention of anything that was living or breathing or had a soul?"

She whispered back, her words tinged with a maternal edge "Oh, Logan, that poor turkey! After I had named him Jeremiah and promised to build him a turkey house and knit him beak warmers!"

It was moments like these that made him very thankful for the rapidly approaching due date. Mitchum interrupted and nodded towards Honor, who spoke next: "Josh and I are so thankful that Emma is finally sleeping through the night and we can do all sorts of fun things with her now, right? We're also very thankful that her godmama will soon give Emma a fun cousin to play with."

Rory smiled at this, interjecting "Emma's godmama is very thankful that soon there will be a fun cousin that is no longer playing soccer with his mama's vital organs."

Logan reached for Rory's hand, gently grasping it next to the place setting. "And I am so thankful that we can all be together today, celebrating our soon to be bigger family, and I'm also thankful for my beautiful Ace and our son."

Rory's eyes misted over and Logan noticed her trying to contain her sniffles. "Oh hell," she said, "These stupid pregnancy hormones make me a ruptured Hoover Dam!"

Chuckles rippled through the females at the table, as Honor sympathized; "When I was pregnant with Emma, poor Josh accidentally ate one of my concoctions-Belgian waffles with anchovy paste-I almost thought he was going to divorce me."

Logan watched as Josh smiled, briefly nudging his sister's cheek with his nose as he pulled her in for a kiss. He liked that finally, they were comfortable enough to do that in front of his parents-he and Rory as well. Thanksgiving was starting to feel real for him-like this motley crew of people assembled were an honest-to-God family rather than a group of society brats separated by trust funds and greed. Rory moved to take her plate towards the kitchen, mumbling something about eating for two. He called out after her, "You know, after Eli's born, you're going to have to figure out a new excuse to use to defend your eating habits."

Expecting a sharp response back and not receiving anything but silence, he called out again, "Ace? Come on, don't get upset."

Still, no retort echoed down the hallway from the kitchen. A little worried, he began to push his chair back from the table. A loud crash filled the air, followed by the tinkling of shattered china. "Oh my god, Rory!"

He leapt from the table, followed closely by his father. Rounding the corner, he saw her slumped against the stove, weakly clutching a drawer pull. Surrounding her were shards of her plate and a growing puddle of water tinged slightly crimson. He immediately dropped to his knees, ignoring the dangerous mess on the floor and cupped her face.

"Rory, Rory, what happened?"

"I think my water broke. I just felt this sharp pain and kind of fell by the stove. Oh no, I broke Honor's plate!"

Mitchum jumped into action; "Don't worry about the stupid plate, we need to get you to the hospital. Should I call the helicopter? Shira, call the helicopter, we need to get to the hospital!"

Logan gently maneuvered Rory into his arms, not caring that his sleeves were getting soaked from the bottom of her dress. He pressed his cheek to hers, whispering in her ear, "It's okay, we'll make it there. Shh, don't cry, baby, we'll get there, I promise."

She mustered up a little smile that was replaced almost immediately with a grimace: "Logan, it hurts." She meekly admitted, before collapsing onto his shoulder.

He rushed out of the kitchen, towards the front door, issuing orders: "Mom, Dad, call Richard and Emily. Honor, call Lorelai, have her stop at our apartment and grab the baby bag on her way to the hospital. I'm going to have Frank drive us to the heliport, there's no way we can make it to Presbyterian with all of the holiday traffic."

Mitchum interrupted; "But…"

Logan whipped around: "Fine, have Mom call Richard and Emily. If you're insisting on coming with, you're calling the hospital and letting them know we're on our way. I want Rory's OB to meet us on the roof, and a private room-tell them if they want paperwork completed, someone else can handle it. Do you think you can do that Dad?"

Startled by his son's ease and decision-making, all he could respond was a mumbled "Just give me the number."

The two men tore open the front door, heading towards the idling limousine that awaited them in the driveway. Mitchum flung open the door while Logan ducked inside with Rory, still faintly conscious. He laid her out on the seat, stroking her head and telling her, "Come on Ror, hold on. We'll be there soon, okay?"

Mitchum clamored into the seat next to Frank, who was obviously not used to his clients sitting up front with him. "What are you staring at, Frank? Get us to the heliport! I don't care if you speed, I'd really like to see the police put up a fight against a Huntzberger pregnancy emergency."

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"Rory, breathe, breathe, we made it, okay?"

He could only watch as Rory's face contorted in pain from the contractions, and then his own face mirrored hers as she gripped his hand so hard, his knuckles were deathly pale. The doctors managed to pry his hand away, and separated the couple in order to wheel her to an examination room. As they rolled the stretcher away, one of them gestured towards the waiting room and told him they would come get him when it was time.

He rushed into the nondescript area, frantically pulling out his phone to call everyone and tell them the good news. While he was on the phone with Colin, midway through his contact list, a nurse motioned to him and disappeared around a corner. He hastily dropped his cell into his pocket and followed the harassed looking woman. Speeding around the corner, he nearly collided with the attending physician.

"Mr. Huntzberger, I need to talk to you."

"Of course, Dr. Reynolds, is everything okay? Is it time? Oh god, it's time, isn't it? I hope everybody will make it before the big event's over."

"Mr. Huntzberger, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Oh Jesus, what's the matter? Is it Rory? The baby?"

"You may want to sit down for this."

"God dammit, just tell me! What's so bad about it? Is something wrong with my son? Does he have nine toes or something? Down's syndrome? Whatever it is, we can handle it!"

The doctor shifted uncomfortably under Logan's frantic gaze, looking pointedly at the beige tile. "Mr. Huntzberger, when we went to check on the progress of labor, we had trouble finding the baby's heart beat. We double-checked our fetal heart monitor, then tried to find the heart beat again. We were unable to find a heart beat other than your wife's. I'm sorry."

Logan couldn't even process the information. "What do you mean you couldn't find a heart beat? We were just at the doctor's two weeks ago and everything was fine!"

The doctor continued; "We're not too sure what happened, we'd like to perform a stillbirth evaluation after your wife is finished with labor, we just need your consent."

"Oh god, Rory. Does she know yet?"

"No, we haven't told her yet. We'll tell her as soon as she's fully dilated."

"I'll tell her."

"Mr. Huntzberger, are you sure? It sometimes is better coming from the attending, mothers are more inclined to believe their doctor."

"No, I'll tell my wife that her child is no longer breathing, if that's all right with you! Somehow I hardly think she's interested in hearing it from you!"

He shook off the doctor's hand and rushed towards the delivery room.

"Rory, honey, how are you?"

"You are never coming near me again, Huntzberger, your son is causing me quite a bit of pain!" She spat out through gritted teeth, though her eyes sparkled with happiness.

"Sweetie, did the doctors tell you anything?"

"No, they said they had to find you, I've only been busy having your child! But Mom was right, pelting the nurses with ice chips is fun!"

"Rory." He stroked her sweat-soaked brow gently, moving down to grasp her hand.

"What? Whatever it is, can it wait until I'm done, OWWWW, pushing?"

Her voice rose to a scream as she latched onto his hand, causing him to bite his lip to contain his own howl.

"Rory, they couldn't find a heart beat."

"What are you talking about?"

"Rory, they couldn't find a heart beat."

"Mrs. Huntzberger, I'm sorry, without a heart beat, we have to assume that the baby was stressed and ceased to function."

"What do you mean YOU COULDN'T FIND A HEART BEAT?"

"Rory, the baby didn't make it."

"Mrs. Huntzberger, you're going to need to push now."

Logan watched helplessly as Rory began to process the information being told to her while she was in labor. Her eyes filled with tears and his heart plummeted to the bottom of his shoes as the first few began to fall.

"Mrs. Huntzberger, one more big push, I almost have it."

The doctor's clinical tone seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, and she began screaming hysterically at the doctor. "That's my son! Not an it! That's my baby, my son!"

Logan could do nothing except press his sobbing wife against his chest, stroking her damp hair and back, feeling his shirt grow soggy as the cotton absorbed her tears.

The doctor interrupted them, holding a small bundle swaddled in a blue blanket. "Would you like to hold him before we transport him to an exam room?"

Logan nodded his head, shifting his attention back to Rory. "Sweetie, do you want to hold him?"

She looked up at him, completely heartbroken. "Yes," she whispered, "I want to hold my son."

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He had given Rory and the baby some time alone, distracting the doctors for a while to allow the pair some time together before they came to take him away. He saw how she was scared to hold him, scared to lift the blanket covering his face. Once she summoned the courage to, however, he saw how tenderly she stroked his eyelids, counted each one of his toes, kissed the tips of his minute fingers. A soft hand on his shoulder broke his gaze from his wife and son; he turned to find Colin standing next to him.

"Hey buddy."

"Hey Colin, thanks so much for coming to the hospital."

"Of course I would, Logan. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay."

"Thanks for the bullshit, I'm not Shira, now how are you really doing?"

"Shitty. Really, really shitty."

"Much better. You want to talk about it?"

"Yeah, but I don't know what to say. I could have prevented this, done something better or right."

Colin shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry man, but there was nothing you could do. You and Rory did everything right, maybe this just wasn't the right time."

"Is this some sort of karmic punishment or something? Like because I was lucky enough to have never gotten a girl pregnant during my man whore days, I can't have a kid now that I'm married and want one?"

"You keep trying to find an explanation, but there isn't one, at least not one yet. Maybe wait and see what the doctors find in their examination."

"Why does this hurt so much?"

"Because this is the first time you've realized that it doesn't matter how much money you have, you're powerless in this situation. It's a pretty big pill to swallow."

"What am I going to do?"

Colin shrugged and sighed: "You'll probably be really angry for a while, yell at God or fate or your father, then you'll be sad and probably afraid to cry in front of us, but Finn and I will take you out for a drink to celebrate your son, and over a very expensive bottle of scotch we will cry and laugh and eventually heal from this."

He cracked a small, somewhat painful smile. "I could see a lot of scotch doing us a lot of good."

"Have you talked to her yet?"

"No, I really have no idea what to say. I couldn't protect her from this, couldn't save us, and I hate it. Anything I say will just be words, she's probably going to blame herself, think that this was her fault, that I resent her for it. And you know her, no matter how many times I reassure her that I'm more concerned about her, she won't believe me."

"Are you still going to name him Eli?"

"No, I don't think so. I think he needs a name that is free from everything we've associated it with; I think we need a name for him that is free from everything we've associated it with. I still want to use the name Elias Christopher, but somehow it just doesn't feel right in this situation."

"Yeah, I understand it. What about Connor?"

"What about it?"

"The name Connor. I think it sounds pretty good with Huntzberger. Unless you and Reporter Girl want to continue the whole 'L' thing you guys have got going on."

"I like Connor. It's strong. Not wimpy like Colin."

"Oh please, Logan? At least I'm not named after an airport."

"I am not named after an airport! It's a family name, ass. Besides, at least nobody's ever called me Col-Col."

"She didn't speak English! And you really want to go that way, Logie-bear?"

He hesitated a little; "It feels wrong to be laughing and smiling right now. I feel like I'm sucking at this whole mourning thing."

Colin looked him straight in the eye; "You were never one to grieve, Logan. Instead, you wanted to celebrate the good things rather than be sad about the bad. Everybody deals with loss differently; it doesn't mean it's wrong that you're not crying your eyes out. Frankly, that would be a little disconcerting, seeing my best friend bawling. You're sad, of course you are, but you choose to find things to be happy about, look for the best in every situation."

"Is there a best in this situation?"

"I'm not sure, buddy, but when I find it, I'll let you know."

He pulled Colin into a hug, grateful to have his particular brand of support with him. This whole thing would be easier with their friends and family; he was happy to be reminded that he wasn't alone here.

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The next few days were the darkest he had ever encountered. Rory locked herself in the nursery, refusing to come out. He could barely function, ignoring all work phone calls and insisting on handling Connor's funeral arrangement by himself. Emily and Lorelai had essentially moved in, and for once he was grateful for his wife's overbearing grandmother. He could faintly hear her barking instructions out to the caterer as he made his way upstairs. Slouched outside the nursery door was Lorelai, merely waiting in the silent hallway, slowly sipping a mug of coffee. Sitting down beside her, happy to feel the solidity of the door behind his head, he asked, "How is she?"

"Well, the sobs quieted down a little about twenty minutes ago, so I think she's worn herself out enough to sleep."

"Has she said anything to you?"

"No, she hasn't even opened the door. I've tried everything-I've never seen her turn down a cup of coffee, much less one that I'm holding."

He sighed. "She's been really really good about the no coffee part with El-I mean the baby. Well, I guess she was really good about it." His voice broke a little mentioning his son.

"Hey, come here." Lorelai set down her cup and pulled Logan into a friendly hug.

"I don't know what to do, Lore, she's shutting me out. She's shutting you out. I don't know how to help her."

"Oh kid, nobody does. No one's gone through this before, and it's not like any of our families are really good with emotional messes. You just have to give her some time to deal with it on her own. It's how she likes to operate."

"I know, but dammit! He was my son, too! Aren't I allowed to be there with her?"

"Logan, she'll let you in eventually. She just needs some time to process-you know how she is. Don't be too hurt by it. I don't know what else to tell you."

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He somehow managed to make his way to the lectern, the priest's sympathies garbled in his head by his grief. Hands shaking, with a voice to match, he slowly extracted the eulogy from his jacket, its tear-stains he would call water spots if anyone asked him about them. "My son may have not known his own life or happiness, but Rory and I are grateful for the happiness he brought to ours. He leaves us with so much hope; for tomorrow and for the future. So now, I leave him with the wise words of a great man mourning the loss of his own love;

_I cease from my song for thee,_

_From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee,_

_O comrade lustrous with silver face in the night._

_Yet each to keep and all, retrievements out of the night,_

_The song, the wondrous chant of the gray-brown bird,_

_And the tallying chant, the echo arous'd in my soul,_

_With the lustrous and drooping star with the countenance full of woe,_

_With the holders holding my hand nearing the call of the bird,_

_Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep for the dead I loved so well,_

_For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands -- and this for his dear sake,_

_Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,_

_There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim._

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He was shaken awake by her intense trembling late one night in bed. She was feverishly pale, moaning slightly while tossing side to side. "Ace, wake up, honey, you're having a bad dream." He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, and his touch shocked her eyes open. She recoiled from him, a flood of tears coursing down her cheeks. "It hurts."

"Baby, what hurts? It's okay, it was only a nightmare. You're okay, you're safe, you're right here with me." She shook him off her, curling into herself, creating a tiny ball that was wracked with sobs.

"It hurts. It hurts so much sometimes that I can't breathe. And then I feel selfish because I can breathe, and he couldn't! Why did my heart keep beating when his stopped? Why couldn't it have been me? I'm done, I've had a life, and I've been loved! He didn't even get the chance! He didn't get to have those things, he didn't even get to open his eyes to see mine! You know his eyes were hazel, the nurse told me. They were a mix of you and me, just like he was. He's never going to open them, or smile, or drink coffee, or get in trouble, and it's because of me! It's broken!"

He tried to soothe her, gently questioning "Honey, what's broken?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at him. "Me, I'm broken. I can't be fixed, put back together."

"Oh God, Rory, you're perfect. You are not broken. Maybe we just weren't meant to have a child right now."

She shook her head vehemently, shrugging off his sentiments. "No, you were ready to be a dad. Me, though, I was selfish and didn't want him when I first found out. But then I grew to love him so much it made me scared sometime, exactly with loving you. And then I was punished because I didn't love him enough, and now he's not here at all!"

"Rory, you loved him enough, you loved him so much, and it's not punishment. This just maybe wasn't the right time for a baby."

"Stop trying to fix everything, Logan, you can't! You can't fix this!" She violently threw herself onto him, beating his chest with balled-up fists, while he held her and waited for the shaking to subside. As predicted, she collapsed into his chest, exhausted from her internal battles, and cried with her entire heart.

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The waxy pallor of the moon made it difficult to distinguish her body from their white sheets, her skin pale and dull, even in the glowing moonlight. He had become accustomed to waking up and wandering the house during the night hours, finding the creaks in the floorboard soothing, and the gentleness of the moon a comfort in his world filled with harsh realities and sharp lines. Her hand lay limply on the bed, his fingers itching to grasp it. However, he knew from experience that if he gave into his impulse, she would just snatch it away and curl up even tighter than she already was. She wouldn't allow anyone to touch her; not even a simple hug or kiss. It was like she was trying to push away the world, including him, scared to let anyone break through her barriers. It wasn't even about making love anymore; it was about their loss of intimacy, how they would hold each other and whisper late into the night. Her body was so foreign to him now, sharp angles where her bones jutted out, thin from not eating. Her eyes terrified him the most; they were dark, rimmed with an unhappy redness that seemed permanent. He felt helpless, and he hated it. He wasn't supposed to be like this, their life wasn't supposed to be like this.

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He walked in the door, tired and looking forward to a mind-numbing drink and the comfortable couch. Instead, he noticed Rory's bag by the door, an immediate red flag for him. He grabbed some of his hair in his fist, cursing slightly under his breath. "Rory? Ace, where are you?"

She timidly walked out of their bedroom, shoes and coat on, as if she had been caught in the act.

"Why are you dressed? Are you going to Stars Hollow? If you give me twenty minutes, I'll come with you."

"No," she said, refusing to meet his gaze. "I'm not going to Stars Hollow and you can't come with."

"What? Wait, explain. Are you and Steph going somewhere? Are you doing some spa thing, girls-only type deal?"

"Logan," her voice broke and her head hung down, "I'm leaving you."

"You don't mean that." He tried to keep his voice steady, but his register wavered.

"Yes, I do. I'm leaving you. It's for the best. You deserve someone who will make you happy."

His eyes clouded with tears, her face becoming blurry to him. "You think you don't make me happy? Why? Rory, I love you. You make me happy!" His words came out in desperation, as if they could express everything he felt in such short syntax.

"I'm broken. We might never have another child. You deserve someone who can give you a child. I can't."

"So you're willing to give up on us because the possibility exists that we might not be able to have children? That existed before Connor, you know." He watched as she involuntarily flinched at the mention of Connor's name, her shoulders drooping even more.

"You need a son or a daughter, or somebody to carry on the Huntzberger destiny. As much as you said you hated it, you've always wanted one of your kids to carry it on."

"I want one of our kids, Rory, ours like yours and mine!"

"Well, it's not going to happen! I might not be able to have another child, and what happens when the next one dies, too? You really want to have another funeral service, visit Connor's grave again, look at all the happy people who can have children while your stupid wife sits at home, and your secretary offers to have your kids? No. It's not going to happen to me."

"It's not going to happen at all! Why do you keep running? Why don't you trust me enough that I love you, I love you for everything you are! Why isn't that enough?"

She stepped away from him towards the door, but he grabbed her arms and held her firmly.

"God, Logan, why do you keep fighting for me?"

"Rory, let's get one thing straight. I will always fight for you. I will fight for you even if I have to fight against you, like right now. You aren't abandoning this marriage because you don't think you're enough for me. You're scared, okay. What do you think I am? I am so goddamn scared out of my mind that half the time, I don't even understand what I'm scared of. Don't push me away, Rory, don't make yourself a martyr for the cause. I don't care that we might not be able to have children of our own. We can adopt, or have you even looked into surrogacy? I know that it's your instinct to run, but please, stay. Stay for me. Even better, stay for yourself."

Wordlessly, tears flowed down her cheeks, leaving darkened rivulets mapping out fragile tributaries on her cheekbones. He brought her close, enveloping her shaking frame into his, pressing their bodies together, from head to toe. He wanted her to feel healed by him, safe and at home.

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Later, as they lay together in bed, he stroked her hair as she finally talked about Connor, unleashing a flood of dammed emotions, feelings and thoughts she had kept bottled up since the funeral.

"I guess I couldn't handle it, I mean, we've all seen me react to emotional stress, it's pretty much like an autopilot course set to self-destruct. At first, I was so nervous to tell you that I was pregnant, I mean, I could barely wrap my head around the fact that you even wanted to get married. That was like a serious violation of playboy ethics."

"Hugh Hefner was married, and he had kids, all while wearing his silk pajamas."

"Hugh Hefner also is dating three identical blondes, Logan."

"You like Bridget, don't deny it. I've caught phone conversations with your mom involving a discussion on whether or not morning after conversation at the mansion is a practiced art."

"Okay, okay. But, I digress. Wait, it feels weird being normal again. Like I'm a bad person because I want to laugh again."

"No, Ror, you're wrong. It's okay to be silly and eventually even happy again. Colin told me right after Connor died that you have to celebrate instead of mourn."

"Did Colin quote the Bible?"

"Not exactly, but he paraphrased Thessalonians somewhat."

"Colin can quote the Bible?"

"He dated a Theology major for a little while."

"That seems like Finn's speed."

"I didn't say Finn didn't, now did I? Anyway, keep talking, I know you want to."

"Well, after some long and hard thinking, I decided that having a baby was a good thing-and then I started to get excited. Sometimes when you were at work, and I was here alone, I would just sit and daydream about all the things we could do with the baby, curling up next each other on the couch while the baby laid with us, taking turns reading passages from books we really liked, causing our kid to be the smartest in his preschool, just all the fun and love we could have. And I knew that you would be the greatest father; even if Mitchum was Idi Amin growing up, I just knew it. I got excited thinking about everything you guys could do together, watching you both grow together, changing, evolving. And now…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

He shook her a little, wanting to demonstrate his presence.

"We will still be able to do that. We haven't even explored our options yet- where there's a will, there's a way, Ace. "

A/N: I apologize for how long it took to get this chapter out. It was a very difficult process, one which I hadn't anticipated. The story has evolved almost organically on it's own, so I have no idea what the next chapters have in store. The poem that Logan reads at the funeral is an excerpt from one of Walt Whitman's poems, and the Bible quotation that Colin essentially paraphrases is 1 Thessalonians 5:16, "Rejoice Always". Thank you for your patience and support!


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